


Shine like silver

by Kagame



Series: The Color Silver [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Horny gen swap au, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kagame is gonna be kind of a slut in this fic, M/M, Sex, Slutzone Kagame, Update tags as I go, hopefully, only at the beginning though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagame/pseuds/Kagame
Summary: An Au of The Color Silver where Kagame is part of Kakashi's generation and comes to Konoha in the midst of the third shinobi war. Most of the events of this fic take place in the aftermath. I wrote this because my side fic, Kagame's guide to dating, inspired me with this Au and I had to write it.
Series: The Color Silver [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031252
Comments: 17
Kudos: 41





	1. I have my blade

I was born.

And then I was broken.

Disassembled.

Rebuilt.

Better, stronger, faster.

A weapon.

Or something that would one day become a weapon.

But I never do get to be used for my intended purpose.

There are defections.

Revolts.

A schism.

A revolution.

And then that crumbles.

Crumbles under our own might.

And I’m a child, but not a child.

Because I am a weapon.

Or will be a weapon.

Whatever.

And then I’m alone.

No longer caged.

No longer being forged, sharpened.

I am a child.

And I am alone.

And I leave alone.

And I go across the sea alone.

And I come to a new place alone.

A new continent.

A new country.

And I get a name.

Something I hadn’t had.

A number sure.

But not a name.

I wasn’t number 78 anymore.

No.

I was now Kagame.

Kagame Ryo.

And I feel something.

I think it’s being happy.

Maybe.

And I’m in a new place.

A place that is now a home.

And I love it.

I think.

It’s something.

It’s a home.

Or I’m told it’s a home.

So it’s something.

And that’s better than nothing.

And then I’m in the academy.

And it’s different.

I figure out quickly what it’s for.

It’s for making weapons.

But it’s not nearly the same as beast country.

Not at all.

But it’s turning children into weapons and so I at least understand it.

I understand it and I compete.

I train.

I sharpen myself just as the others there are all doing.

But it’s frustrating.

Different.

But I try.

I try and I become sharper, deadlier.

And I succeed.

Not as well as some of the others.

But I’m good enough.

I’m ten and I’m now an adult.

Or they tell me I’m an adult.

I don’t know if it matters.

But I’m an adult and there are others there who are actually younger than me, but they’re as good as me or even better so they are adults as well.

And we all get headbands.

Headbands with shiny metal plates with a leaf carved on them.

Or at least they tell me it’s a leaf.

It looks more like a stylized birdhead.

But I don’t say anything.

I just tie it around my forehead because that’s where it goes and it’s proof that I am an adult.

A shinobi of Konohagakure.

A weapon.

Finally finished being forged and sharpened.

Ready to be used.

To be tested.

To cut.

And I’m ready.

Ready as I need to be anyway.

I’m sent out of the village as quickly as possible.

Two others with me.

Boys.

Stronger, but not faster.

And I feel something about that.

Maybe pride.

Pride because there is at least something I can do better than them.

And we’re put under a man’s lead.

An actual man.

A real life actual adult.

Fully grown with facial hair and everything.

He’s in charge.

We do what he says.

We fight.

We kill.

We destroy.

Whatever he wants.

Whatever he tells us to do.

We do it.

We are weapons.

And Konoha has decided that he is the one to wield us.

Until they decide he doesn’t need to anymore.

I’m 12, almost 13 and he leaves and it’s just us.

And we’re still fighting.

But now it’s harder.

We’re alone.

Without him as a safety net.

Left to our own devices.

Mostly.

We get an eagle.

It gives us a message.

A mission.

It tells us what to do and we do it.

But it’s not the same.

It tells us what to do, but it doesn’t help, not like a real, actual adult man who can kill can.

And when we don’t have a mission… 

When we’re left without guidance… 

All that is left is to sharpen ourselves further and try not to be found, try not to be killed.

And I hate it.

It’s hard.

I’m scared.

And all I have is my team.

And we barely speak.

Don’t need to.

We just fight and kill and move on to the next mission and get sharper and sharper and get thrown against stronger and stronger enemies, bigger groups, worse problems and we kill, get sharper, kill.

And the blade in my fingers needs to be maintained.

Cleaned.

All the time.

So often.

And it’s something.

It’s something.

It never lets me down.

It’s reliable.

It’s there.

In my hands.

Wielded by me.

Controlled by me.

And it’s small.

Well…

Compared to what I had thought to be a blade before.

It’s so much smaller than the claymores held by my sisters.

But I can use it and it’s mine and it’s in my hands, here with me.

It’s not gone, not broken, not beyond my reach.

No.

It’s in my hands.

And it cuts.

Slices.

Kills.

It’s my blade.

And I trust it.

And I almost don’t feel scared.

Because I can fight, I can cut, I can survive.


	2. Hand full of ruin

I’m sixteen.

It’s been years of fighting.

Six long, bloody years.

But it’s not hard anymore.

It’s not hard, and I’m not scared.

Not anymore.

Because I figured it all out.

I rationalized and compartmentalized.

It was easy.

I just had to spread my legs.

Let them inside.

It felt good.

They felt good.

It was easy.

I didn’t have to think about it.

Or anything.

It was a break.

From the war.

From the killing.

From that feeling.

Inside of me.

That emptiness.

I was happy.

I think.

Filled at least.

Well… 

Maybe not filled.

I mean yes-but.

Well… 

No. 

Physically sure, yeah.

But.

Inside.

Emotionally, spiritually.

That was different.

I wasn’t filled, but…

It was something, I wasn’t empty, I was…

Half filled.

Well, not half, but…

A little less than half.

If I had to guess.

Something.

It was… something.

That’s the point.

It was something.

And something was better than nothing.

It wasn't bad.

And not bad isn’t awful or horrible or scary or hard.

It’s almost good.

So…

Yeah. 

I opened my legs for my team.

And it was something.

A distraction.

And they were happy.

They felt good.

I made them feel good.

And that was something.

And they made these faces.

They were funny.

Different.

Nice.

Not the faces they had in battle.

More animated, more real, more…

Something.

I don’t know.

But it made me smile.

I think.

I think it’s a smile.

I don’t really remember what a real smile feels like.

Oh.

Well.

I guess that solves that then.

I don’t smile.

But I kind of do.

It’s something.

It’s like a smile.

Close to one.

It’s not the same blank mask that I’m used to so, yeah, it’s something.

And something is better than nothing.

So I take it.

I spread my legs and I take it and I smile and I feel… something.

And I see my teammates.

And they look like people.

They are people.

Not like the shinobi we kill.

No.

Because the shinobi we kill are just weapons.

I don’t see them like this.

With these kinds of faces.

So they aren’t people.

Just weapons.

And that makes killing them easier.

Because I’m not killing people.

Not breaking my oath to my clan.

If that kind of thing even matters anymore.

Does it?

They’re all gone.

I’m not in beast country anymore.

And if I did break my oath no one would care and I wouldn’t get in trouble, or be punished, or replaced, or recycled, or…… whatever!

But I didn’t break my oath.

No.

That’s what I tell myself.

Because I’m not killing people.

Not slaughtering humans.

I’m just breaking weapons.

And weapons are no big deal.

Weapons can be replaced.

That’s……

Easier.

Really easy.

So I keep fighting.

And fighting becomes easier.

Killing becomes easier.

And I don’t feel bad for it.

Because they’re just weapons.

Not people.

Not humans.

Weapons.

And war becomes easy.

All because I opened my legs.

Let my team use me.

See their beautiful, expressive faces.

Faces our enemies never wear.

They might sneer, or scowl, or cower in fear.

But they don’t ever look like my team.

They never make the kinds of faces they do when my legs are spread open and they’re thrusting inside.

So it’s fine.

It’s easy.

I don’t feel bad.

… 

And then my team dies.

They die.

And I’m still here.

I’m still here.

Surrounded by enemies.

But I’m not looking at them.

I’m looking at my team.

My team.

Broken.

Still.

Unmoving.

Their faces are bloody and they’re eyes are glassy, empty.

They’re faces are void of any expression.

And they look just like the broken weapons all around me.

The dead people.

The humans that we have killed.

That I have killed.

And I feel bad.

That emptiness inside of me twists.

And it hurts.

It hurts so much.

It’s worse than being empty.

So much worse.

And I hate.

I hate.

I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate.

I hate them.

I hate my team.

I hate myself.

And I kill the rest of them.

Those damn fucking shinobi who have broken my world with their hands created for nothing but ruin.

I kill them.

My yoki burns.

Burns brighter than I’ve ever felt it.

I burn.

I burn and I kill and my veins are filled with fire burning brighter, brighter.

It’s so bright.

And I’m blinded.

Blinded by that brightness.

Blinded by my own hatred.

I don’t even realize that they’re all dead.

I’ve killed all of them.

They’re all gone.

And I am. Alone.

I am all alone.

… 

And I realize something else.

I’m back in the village when it happens.

I realize my teammates were not people.

No.

Not that Konoha had not seen them as people.

I already knew that.

No.

It was me as well.

That’s what I realize.

I never did treat them as people.

That’s what I realize once I’m back in the village with my dead team and I’m all alone.

I didn’t treat them as people.

I didn’t see them as people.

I used them just as much as they used me.

I used them.

Just as the village had used them.

They were a means to an end.

Maybe they weren’t weapons.

But they were still tools.

Tools that I had gladly used.

Tools whose names I did not even remember.

I know that I had to have known.

Had to have called them by their names at some point.

I had to have.

But… 

I am at their graves and I can’t say anything about them.

I don’t know anything about them.

I look at their names carved into that stupid rock.

And I understand in that moment that it’s all that’s left of them.

Just names that I hadn’t even remembered until now.

Names that I would then choose to forget in that same moment.

Because I didn’t know them and I didn’t deserve to.

Names carved into a stupid, pretty, reflective, blue tinted rock.

And I can’t say anything.

I opened my fucking mouth and nothing comes out.

No words.

No sobs.

I just stand there like a fucking idiot.

And they all think I’m in shock.

That I haven’t processed what happened.

But I get it.

I do.

They’re dead.

And I don’t even know who they are and they didn’t know who I was either.

But they’re dead now so it’s not like anyone else knows that.

No one  _ can  _ know that.

So I closed my mouth and I decided to keep quiet.

Keep it a secret.

If it can even be called a secret.

Does it matter anyway?

No.   
No it doesn’t.

It’s not even really a secret.

It’s a trivial little slice of reality that just barely even exists and even then not really because they weren’t even allowed to be people.

… 

I don’t say anything.

I don’t say anything as I’m given time alone to myself in an apartment I’ve barely stepped foot in since this damn war began.

And I feel… 

Empty.

…

And then the war is over.

Over before I can even return to the field.

The third hokage has stepped down and they put some new guy in charge.

Minato Namikaze.

The Yellow Flash.

The Bane of Iwa.

The Stone Cutter.

He killed a thousand ninja in one night.

I can’t even comprehend it.

How much blood is it.

How much blood comes from that kind of a number.

I don’t know.

I don’t think I’ll ever know.

I don’t want to know.

They call him a hero.

They all cheer as he takes the hat.

The war is over.

He is not my hero.

I do not cheer.

A shinobi is a weapon.

But it is also more.

It is a murderer.

That is what the war has taught me.

And I cannot see him as a hero.

I refuse.

I clench my fists and grit my teeth and hold back tears.

I go back ‘home’.

To my lonely, dark, barely lived-in apartment.

And I finally cry.

I wipe my eyes.

I untie my headband and put it on my bedside table.

I take the flak jacket marking me as chunin, the one I received for being the only one to come back alive from my team, and I put it in a box.

The same box that I had put my team photo in.

And I slide it under my bed.

I try to forget that it’s there.

Try to forget that I only have this new rank because I slaughtered men and women without dying in the process.

I sleep a dreamless sleep that night.

And the next day I return to active duty.

My headband tied haphazardly around my neck.

And I take my first ever D-rank mission.

I’m seventeen years old and I finally take the first step of being a shinobi.

I’m finally doing the kind of thing a genin is supposed to do.

But I’m all alone.

No team.

No sensei.

Just me.

A chunin.

I finish the mission and get paid.

It’s the first paycheck I’ve ever seen.

I go to the bank where I apparently have an account and meet with the banker for the first time.

I cash the check.

I get a checkbook and a folder filled with all sorts of things I don’t really understand and I find out I have a lot of money in my account.

And I have no idea what to do with it.

So I just take the now meager seeming amount that I received for weeding the garden and I go home and I try to figure out just how much smaller it would be if I were a genin with a real team and it seems more substantial that way.

I put it on the table and I look at it.

I look at it and go through the folder with all the direct deposits that had been made by the village while I was out in the field for six fucking years and I break it down and understand it and I look back at the money on the table and visualize what all the different totals would look like and try to figure out, try to understand just how much…

How much I made from fighting and killing and just barely surviving.

And I try to put a price on the heads of all the people I killed and I can’t because I don’t remember.

I don’t have any idea how many I’ve killed with these hands and the fucking blade sitting on it’s stand in my home.

I have no idea how much a human life is worth.

So I think of the new hokage.

I think of the thousand people he killed in one night and I have no idea if I’ve killed that many people and I highly doubt that I did, but it feels like in that moment that maybe I could have.

I use that number.

I use it and divide all the money in my account by that number and it seems wrong.

How little any of those people’s lives were worth.

It all just seems wrong.

And I don’t know in that moment just how much a human life is worth and I don’t think I could or should assign a value like that.

I stare down at my hands and they’re trembling.

They’re trembling and I can barely see them through the tears in my eyes.

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair.

I shouldn’t have had to do this.

I wish things hadn’t changed.

In that moment I wish I could be in beast country and hunt yoma because that would at least be different.

It would be different and I could have pride.

It would be different and I could call myself a warrior.

But I’m here.

And I am a murderer.

…

I am a murderer and things are hard.

Things are hard even though they’re now easier than ever.

No war.

No fighting.

No killing.

And yet everything is harder.


	3. I need you

Life had become hard again, so I went back to what I knew. What I knew was easy.

I went to a bar, tried to shape my face into something like a smile. I watched, I waited, I listened.

I found a man. Pretty, kind looking eyes, animated, and drunk off his fucking ass. 

Vulnerable. Not in the way civilians were vulnerable. He was a shinobi, so even drunk he would be dangerous, at least somewhat capable of protecting himself. 

He was vulnerable in a very different way. In the way that my team had been vulnerable. Just like them he would be easy for me to use. Easy to get between my legs.

I talked to him, listened to what he said, acted as interested as I possibly could even though he really wasn’t fully coherent. He got up and paid for his drinks and offered to pay for mine. 

I hadn’t drank anything. But I still appreciated the gesture, even thought it was sweet.

He took me to his home, we laughed on the way there, and sang songs I had never heard before. I couldn’t help but wonder if he actually was getting any of the lyrics right. It didn’t matter. He held my hand, swung it back and forth as he drunkenly ambled through the streets with me. 

I couldn’t help but smile. It was different from the kinds of smiles I was used to. It was so wide it actually kind of hurt my face. But I liked it all the same. It was new and it was exciting.

He hastily locked his door and activated some kind of sealing array once we had stepped inside his home. He pressed up against me, grinding his body against mine, his hands twisting in my hair. We kissed, wet, sloppy, desperate, as he tried to lead me to his bedroom in his impaired state. 

He dumped me on his bed and hurriedly began to undress, pulling his shirt above his head and tossing it on the ground as he immediately moved on to removing his pants, freeing his already hardened cock.

I blushed, eyes drinking in every detail of his nude form as he advanced and pulled open my yukata.

There was a flicker of surprise across his face as he stared at my bare chest.

“You’re a dude.” He slurred.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

He shook his head and buried his face in my neck. I stifled a moan as he got to work leaving small kisses down my neck and to my chest. His tongue swirling around my nipple as his hands dipped underneath my pants, slipping them and my underwear off.

This was easy.

This was nice.

It was exactly what I needed to get out of my own head.

At that moment I wasn’t a shinobi, I was just a pretty guy with long hair about to get my lights fucked out by a complete stranger.

That’s all that I needed.

I didn’t think about anything else.

I just let my body react to the sensations this man was making me feel and that was enough for me.

To let him do with me as he pleased.

That was all I needed.

I didn’t bother to check if he had put on a condom before thrusting inside me.

I probably should have, but in that moment I didn’t care, couldn’t bring myself to. I was having a rough time and just needed it, needed him, anyone, to try and fill that emptiness inside of me.

Later I would be glad to find that he did, but still.

I was just focused on the feeling of him inside of me, of lips crashing against mine, his tongue invading my mouth, his hot breath, his hips desperately bucking, my legs resting on his shoulders, only slightly uncomfortable as he mercilessly fucked me.

I was glad.

I was glad, happy, absolutely fucking elated.

I felt more from this drunken stranger than I had from my teammates at any point.

I should have felt bad for that.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t feel bad at all because they were worse than strangers.

Far worse.

Worse because I had supposedly known them.

But there were no expectations here, nothing to hide from, no imminent danger.

This was someone I had never spoken to, never fought alongside, never… anything. And that made me feel so light and free.

I reached out for his chakra and it felt like needles digging into my skin.

I broke the connection.

He stopped mid thrust and pulled his face away from mine.

His eyes looked almost clear for a moment.

“Are you okay?” He asked, brow furrowing.

“Yeah.”

I slid my legs down from his shoulders and wrapped them around his torso.

“Please… I need you…” I whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

I watched him.

Watched his chest rise and fall as he laid there in bed.

He fell asleep rather quickly after he had finished.

I couldn’t blame him. It was late, he was drunk, he had just expended a considerable amount of energy rutting inside me.

I couldn’t sleep though.

I had been having trouble ever since I had come back from the war.

Even before then really.

So I watched him, listened to his rhythmic breathing.

I didn’t sleep at all that night.

I just laid there in this stranger’s bed and watched him all night.

It was peaceful.

Better than if I had just stayed home, tossing and turning in my own bed.

Alone.

Here at least… I was sort of not alone, not completely anyway.

So I smiled. A nice, warm feeling, real smile, as I watched him breath.

I wanted to touch him, hold him. 

I wanted it so badly.

But I couldn’t, couldn’t reach out and touch him.

I was too scared.

Scared that the moment would shatter if I did.

He woke up as the first rays of dawn filtered in through the window, cascading against the walls and onto his face.

He took in his surroundings, bleary eyed, looking confused at first to see me there.

I didn’t know what to do.

It was easier when he was drunk and fucking me.

Easier when he was asleep.

Now it seemed awkward. 

I just laid there, looking at him.

“I’m Genma.” His voice was rough and dry.

“Kagame Ryo.” I replied. “You got a last name?”

“Shiranui.”

His mind was still clearly struggling to catch up to what was going on as he continued to stare at me.

“You were… very good last night.” I tried.

“Thanks… Oh! Thanks.” He said, mind finally grasping the events of last night.

Though I guess I should be more understanding, considering he was probably very hungover at the moment.

“I can… show myself out.” I said, slipping out from under the sheets.

He watched me carefully as I picked up my clothes from the floor and redressed.

He didn’t stop me as I left the room.

I was then confronted with the obstacle that was the sealing array on the front door and stood there for what felt like way too long as I tried and failed to unlock the door.

“Here, let me.” He slid past me, fully dressed and without a hint of the hangover he was sporting earlier. With a quick pulse of his chakra I was finally able to get out.

It took me longer than I would have liked to admit to find my way home.

But considering I haven’t actually lived in the village for six fucking years, I think I did pretty good. I at least made it back without having to ask anyone for directions, so there’s that.

I had no idea what to do now though.

But I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. So I showered, redressed, and left.

It would be near impossible to find a man at this hour, so I went to the missions desk, took as many D-ranks as they would give me and mechanically got to work, breezing through them one by one.

It was easy.

I didn’t have to think.

I just had to work.

And going to so many different locations around the village for jobs helped me to figure things out. Relearn all the old places my childhood self had forgotten during the war.

It still felt like I was in uncharted territory.

After spending so many years out in the field I had come to know the northwest outskirts of fire country better than anything here in the village walls.

It made me feel like an outsider.

Like I was that same six year old that had just come here after losing every last bit of family I had.

To think that all these years later I was still alone… 

It was more than a little depressing.

I shook my head and got back to work.

If I focused on the task at hand I wouldn’t be able to think, wouldn’t be able to get myself down like that.

I just had to stay focused.

I could do that.

I had to do that.

I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t.

I went to the same bar that night.

Genma wasn’t there.

I frowned.

No one there seemed to be in the same vulnerable state he had been in. No one was chasing drinks to escape some hidden demon, ready to go home with the first stranger and try to sleep their worries away.

And I definitely couldn’t go to some civilian bar. That was totally out of the question. They were… different. 

So I decided that I might as well drink myself that night. Something I had never done before. It burned my throat, and while the smell was at least somewhat tolerable when it was coming from Genma or one of the men around me, I couldn’t bear it clinging to me. 

I hated it. Hated myself for it.

I decided I wouldn’t drink again, even though I hadn’t even managed to get buzzed. I guess I wouldn’t be finding out what Genma experienced last night when he was drunk off his ass.

Part of me mourned that loss. Another much louder part was glad I wouldn’t put myself through it, was terrified of what I might do if I didn’t have full control.

I paid my tab and left.

There was no singing, no stumbling, no laughing.

I found myself wishing for last night again.

It was fun.

It was something.

Tonight was nothing though.

I sat on my kitchen floor, staring at the cabinet before me, knowing it was empty, knowing that they were all empty.

I wondered what normal people kept in them. Wondered if I should have gone searching through Genma’s kitchen while he slept, or if he would have woken and tried to kill me for being a strange shinobi rummaging through his stuff.

I then wondered if I would ever sleep again. Surely I would have to at some point. My body would have to give out from under me eventually after all. I hoped it would be soon.

The night was a terrible time to be alone with one's thoughts. Things all just felt so different in the night, more raw. Like living in a world with its own set of laws, totally different from the world you knew. Everything that made sense in the day was twisted and upside down, faded and taken apart, rearranged and unrecognizable.

I found myself longing for the battlefield of all things.

I felt shame at that longing, disgust.

It was easy of course.

Mission, fight, kill, sharpen, kill.

Easy.

As long as you didn’t stop to think.

I hated that I had been able to exist like that.

Countless children from the academy had not been able to exist like that.

They had died.

Broken.

They were unable to sharpen themselves. 

They were dull in the face of the enemy.

But they were children.

They shouldn’t have been out there.

That’s what I had come to understand.

In the darkness of the night I reaffirmed that belief.

We had been called adults because we could fight, follow orders, kill.

But we were not.

And now I was one of the few to survive and become an actual adult.

But sitting here in the dark, plagued by my own thoughts, empty… 

I was grown.

Not really an adult, just grown. 

I was curled into myself in a corner, sitting on the floor, cowering.

Afraid of what I might see in the shadows if I looked.

But no matter what I might see in those shadows, there was nothing.

And that was worse than the battlefield.

Because at least there the danger was real.


	4. I don't want a mask

I was approached by the Hokage. Minato Namikaze. He sent some genin, fresh faced, new headband, to come to my home and request my presence.

I don’t think that I had ever been inside Hokage Tower proper before today. Sure I had been to the mission desk, but where the Hokage himself spent his time... Maybe once or twice, when I was much younger. But nothing in my immediate memory told me that I’ve been here.

_He’s a nice man. Or he seems nice. I don’t know that he actually is. Probably not. I don’t think you can kill a thousand people and be nice, let alone that many in one night. But he acts nice so I can pretend he is, go along with it, even if my mind is screaming that he can’t be this nice. Especially since I had never met anyone in the village this nice._

He acted worried. Worried about me. Said he wanted to help me.

I figured out very early on in his proposal that he was in fact not worried about me, nor did he really want anything that would be best for me.

He wanted me to join the next batch of shinobi to try out for the Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai.

Anbu.

I refused.

I heard the stories.

I knew what they did.

It was right there in the fucking name after all.

The way they killed was nothing like the way I had killed in the war, in the way I was sure I would kill again in the future.

It was far more deliberate, refined, and more importantly, indiscriminate. They killed even those who were civilians. I… couldn’t get behind something like that.

I had struggled in the war to justify killing shinobi, I had then gotten over it just to watch my schema break anyway and end up at square one. 

No. 

If I was being honest, I had actually ended up in a worse spot than square one.

So no, there was no way I could join such a squad or even join a program to select potential members for anbu. Because there was no way my psyche would be able to handle murdering civilians as well.

And aside from all of that, there was the matter of being unable once again to choose which missions I would be able to take. Anbu, just like shinobi in war time, were unable to choose or decline any mission. I couldn’t put myself in that kind of position. 

I would end up as a rogue ninja way too quickly if I did. I would end up saying no to this seemingly nice man and be branded a traitor or more likely killed when I would inevitably attempt to murder him for ordering me to kill someone who didn’t even have the physical ability to fight back against me or any shinobi.

So I smiled. I smiled and thanked him for the opportunity and declined.

He smiled back and spewed some bullshit about thanking me for my consideration and how he wished me the best.

I stopped on my way out and reserved one of the training grounds for the rest of the week.

I felt idle and needed to burn off energy in a way that wasn’t sex, because I hadn’t managed to find anyone since the night with Genma and if I didn’t do something now then I would explode.

I didn’t bother to go over which one was which with the shinobi I mostly spoke at, I just asked for the first available one I saw on the list he presented me.

I didn’t train.

I used the training grounds, yes.

But I didn’t train.

Instead I stood there, right in front of the memorial stone, because of course the training grounds I had randomly picked would be the one with the fucking memorial stone.

So every day I ended up standing here, staring at the stone.

I didn’t read any of the names.

I was afraid.

Afraid that if I read them I would see ones that I would recognize as having belonged to my team and I had purposefully forgotten them for a reason.

I didn’t want to know their names.

Didn’t want to remember.

So I stood there and looked at my own barely visible reflection in the glossy stone surface.

I didn’t move.

I stayed there for hours.

And then I came back the next day.

And the next.

And then on the fourth day I had sunken down to my knees at some point.

I guess I must have been tired of standing.

It was raining that day.

Not a full on rainstorm or anything like that, just a light drizzle really.

But sitting out there in the middle of it for who knows how long got me soaked nonetheless.

It was on that day that I saw someone else.

I watched as his reflection moved into focus, felt his static charged chakra as he stood next to me.

He looked to be about my height, but his gangly limbs, thin body, and ill fitting clothes told me that he was probably younger than me. Despite the rain, and what I understood about gravity, his grey hair stood straight up. A small part of me couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps his bad posture was a result of his body overcompensating for his hairs disregard for the laws of physics.

I looked up at him, watching him as he stood there, as I had stood there for days before, unmoving.

“I’m sorry.” I said, turning back to face my reflection in the monument.

We sat in silence for a long moment.

“What for?” He asked.

“Because you’re here.” I paused. 

“I can leave if you want.” I whispered.

“That’s stupid.” He answered.

So we sat there.

I found out the boy's name was Kakashi.

I heard a loudmouth with a bowl cut yelling his name in the street the next time I saw him. He was demanding a challenge from Kakashi, called the boy his eternal rival. I think it could have been called cute if it wasn’t so obnoxious.

I didn’t see him for a very long time after that.

I didn’t see much of anyone actually.

I had reserved training grounds 44 for the maximum amount of time I was allowed to and stayed there, day and night.

It reminded me of fire country’s outskirts during the war.

Dark.

Dangerous.

Easy.

My thoughts were on survival alone.

And that was easy.

That was something I knew, something I was familiar with.

There were giant bugs, tigers, untripped traps from when Konoha had hosted chunin exams years ago.

It was a deadly game I was playing with myself.

A game where the only loser was me.

If I died then I was dead.

If I lived then I would still have to live.

It was a lose-lose situation.

But self preservation instincts still flourished in my mind.

So I guess I wanted to live, despite the sleepless nights, the nightmares when I did manage to go unconscious, the intrusive thoughts, and emptiness that still ate away at my insides.

In spite of all that, I still wanted to live.

So I did.

I lived and sharpened myself against the so-called “forest of death” because it’s what I knew.

Sharpening, killing, surviving.

It was easy and I knew it, understood, had gone through this pattern time and time again.

But… 

I… 

I was missing something.

I tried not to think on it.

I had spent a month in the forest of death before I had finally returned home.

That nagging feeling of missing something had persisted the whole time, refusing to be shaken off.

Before I had even realized it I was in front of the memorial stone.

Kakashi was already there, despite the early hour of the day. He was different from the last time I had seen him. His loose clothing had been replaced by black skin tight fabric and fitted grey armor. 

So that’s how it is then. 

Anbu.

“I’m sorry.” I said.

“You said that before.” He responded.

“It was about something else.”

I left him there, and tried not to think about the morning dew collecting on him.

“I heard a rumor about you.” I said.

He shifted minutely.

Neither one of us was looking to see the other.

Both choosing to watch the stone, or in my case, my reflection.

“They call you Nakamagoroshi.”

He didn’t react.

“You’re here though.”

Nothing.

I had managed to find Genma again.

He wasn’t drunk.

But he was desperate.

More than willing to bring me to his home again.

If anything he seemed more desperate like this.

He was smooth.

Said all the right words.

Made me feel special.

Important.

I realized just how much he wanted this as his mouth sought mine.

The passion.

The heat.

The sheer amount of need behind it all.

I tried not to think about the tattoo that had appeared on his upper arm since the last time I saw him.

I instead had chosen to savor the moment.

Focusing on the heat of his body, the sweat on his skin.

I nipped at and sucked on his neck as he got to work loosening me up, moaning into him when he finally lined up his cock and entered me.

I whined as he thrusted inside me.

He smiled, taking pleasure in my frustration as he ran his entire length from tip to base agonizingly slow. 

I bit my lip as he licked the shell of my ear and whispered, “You feel good.”

Something inside my chest swelled at hearing that.

I released my lip.

Let out all the sounds I was trying to keep in.

The desperate, frustrated whines produced from his slow ministrations.

I was more than happy to let him hear me.

Hear what he was doing to me, making me feel.

If spreading my legs made him feel good, then listening to him call me his good little slut, telling me I fit just right around him, felt fucking amazing.

So I whined and moaned and told him I needed him as he picked up speed, thrusting harder as I raked my nails across his back, pulling him in closer to me.

I did need him.

Needed him badly.

More than I had ever needed my team.

They had never kissed me, never called me theirs, never told me how good I felt.

They moaned sure, but it wasn’t the same.

So I was doing better than good, better than great.

The emptiness inside of me filled as Genma filled my body with his cock, over and over and over and over.

I wanted him, needed him.

Deeper, harder, faster, as I pulled him in closer until we were chest to chest, my own cock pressed against his abdomen, leaking.

“Do you like that? Do you feel good?”

“Yes…” I breathed. “Yes, yes, yes, gods fucking yes…”

He had been lovely.

Had filled me.

Called me his tight little slut.

Pressed small sweet kisses along my jaw.

Even reached down with his hand and helped me to finish after he was done.

Yet another thing my team had never done for me.

If I had wanted my own release it was always left to myself to take care of.

I didn’t stay for long after it was over.

Not that I needed to.

Genma wasn’t much for cuddling.

I suppose you don’t need to be though when you’re only looking for a nice lay.

Still, I had gotten what I was after.

And then something else as well, something I hadn’t known I needed.

Information.

He may not have said anything useful, or anything outside of bedroom matters, but that tattoo spoke volumes.

I think I managed to put things together.

Namikaze had asked for me because I was a weapon that survived the war, though was worse for wear.

My team was gone.

My psych eval was… less than optimal. 

Not that I had even been given a proper one.

From what I had seen of Genma and Kakashi, they hadn’t seemed to be the most stable either.

That they had both been recruited to anbu shortly after my meeting with Namikaze proved that he was seeking to remove such damaged weapons from the public view.

I understood the mindset.

It would be easier to move on, to let the war fade from the collective minds of Konoha’s people if there weren’t constant reminders of it in the form of scarred shinobi, unable to forget, unable to return to their previous states of mind.

I understood.

I didn’t like it.

But I understood.

He was decidedly not a nice man.


	5. Fuck me outside

“This isn’t proper shinobi conduct.”

I shut him up with another kiss.

He gladly leaned into it.

Returning it with a greater need than would be expected from someone who kept breaking away to fret over what we were doing.

His name was Ebisu.

For someone I had met in an adult bookstore he seemed pretty uptight.

But after some not so subtle hinting that I was down to fuck, he had quickly met me outside, leading me into a narrow alley.

I had told him we could go back to my place if he didn’t want to bring me to his own.

He didn’t respond, too lost in need as he slid down his pants and fumbled with the condom I offered him.

He couldn’t wait that long it would seem.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he lifted me off the ground, hands held firmly under my thighs, and impaled me on his cock.

His face was red, flushed with blood.

I was a bit worried he might pass out on me.

He tried very hard while fucking me to keep his expression schooled, pursing his lips as his nostrils flared.

His face looked stupid like that.

I found myself giggling.

He stopped mid thrust, caught off guard, his mouth opening wide as he stared mortified at me.

He started worryingly asking me if he was doing something wrong, if it wasn’t good for me.

It was cute.

I repositioned myself, as best I could, and pulled him deeper inside me.

“You’re doing fine.” I told him. “Keep going.”

It wasn’t the same as when I was with Genma, but it wasn’t like my team either.

So I was happy.

After my fit of giggling Ebisu’s confidence had seemed to tank.

I found myself talking.

Guiding him.

Reassuring him.

He became desperate to pleasure me.

Eager to listen to what I said.

I had never been this in control before.

It was different.

But so was fucking in an alley.

So today seemed to be a day for different things.

Ebisu didn’t look at me afterwards.

We didn’t speak.

Just parted our own ways.

Shame filling his face.

I felt no such shame.

I had wanted, needed to be with someone.

And I had.

It wasn’t ideal, but so far sex had never been ideal.

It had been good.

It had been distracting.

It had been a relief.

But never ideal.

Nothing in the shinobi world had ever been ideal.

But I guess Ebisu had felt different about such a thing.

His willingness to obey, his worries that he was doing something wrong, it was clear that he had a different view on the whole thing.

Even when Genma had asked me if it had felt good, it was with the confidence that yes, I was enjoying myself.

But Ebisu had asked much the same thing with a desperate need to please, a need for validation, and before that he had been closed off.

Ebisu was different.

Uncomfortable with his own self and the reality of sex with someone.

He had still been good though, so I didn’t care if he had such hangups.

If we met again and had sex, then good.

If he regretted what we did and decided not to, then that was fine.

I could always find someone else.

I didn’t need him.

I just needed someone.

I was in the middle of one of my cool down stretches when I saw Genma next.

He placed his hands around my hips and guided me deeper into it.

He pressed up against me, his breath hot against my ear.

“I heard you gave Ebisu a good time the other day.”

“Is that a problem.”

He snorted. “No. Gods know the guy needed to loosen up for a while now.”

“I could tell.” I chuckled.

“Was he that bad?” Genma continued to guide my body through stretches as we spoke.

I shook my head. “No. He was nice. Different. But nice.”

“Just nice?” There was mirth in his voice.

“I’m not much for alleyways.” I joked.

He pulled me out of my stretches, wrapping me in his arms, pressing my back against him, I felt the hard armor of his anbu uniform.

He was even wearing a white mask as he rested his chin in the crook of my shoulder. 

It reminded me of a fish.

“Fugu.” He said.

“I’m surprised you could see me looking.” I replied.

“I can. The mask wouldn’t be too useful if I couldn’t see out of it. Besides, anyone would be staring. It would be weird if you weren’t.” 

I hummed, enjoying the heat from his body for a bit.

“So why did you come here?” I finally asked.

“Can’t stop by to say hi?”

“If that was why you were here, then you wouldn’t be wearing the mask.” I pointed out. “The fact that you are points to business, not pleasure.”

“I can do both.” He shifted, his pelvis grinding against me.

He was hard.

“Yeah?”

I hadn’t expected to be fucked outside twice that week.

But my life had been full of the unexpected.

I had missed Genma’s mouth.

It was just another reason for me not to like anbu.

He laughed at my pouting, said he would make it up to me later.

“I’ll hold you to that.” I said as I bounced up and down his cock.

I laid on top of him. 

Sweaty, tired, naked.

I was idley playing with one of the straps of his armor when he spoke.

“How come you didn’t join?”

So that’s what this was about.

I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Didn’t seem like it was for me.”

“I’ve read your file. Seems like it would be up your alley.”

I hid my frown in his neck.

“You must not be good at reading people.” 

“We could use you.” He tried.

“You know I like being used in a different way, right?”

“Then why not infiltration instead? Why not seduction? Why not anything?” He sounded frustrated, confused. “You’ve just been booking training grounds and doing D-ranks. You were in the forest of death for a fucking month, why…” His grip tightened around me.

I stayed quiet, still.

Listened to his breathing.

Felt the rise and fall of his chest.

Drank in his scent.

Sweat and dried larkspur.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his grip loosening.

I didn’t move.

Not just because my instincts told me not to, but because I had wanted this, wanted this from the first night when he had been drunk.

To be in his arms with no rush to leave.

I closed my eyes and savored it.

I fell asleep in his arms.

I didn’t have any nightmares.

I woke up alone.

I was in my home.

Still naked.

My body ached.

Was stiff.

Dried larkspur.

Of course.

But I had been cleaned.

There was no dirt under my nails.

No sweat stuck to me.

I smelled fresh.

I smiled.

He was considerate at least.


	6. No fun

“People are talking about you.”

I turned my head to look at him.

Kakashi had begun to look less small than he had when he first started wearing that armor.

“Yeah?” I asked, raising a brow.

He didn’t look at me as he spoke, kept his eye trained on the memorial stone.

“About you and Shiranui.”

“Ah.”

“You know he sees other people right.”

He didn’t say it as a question, but he didn’t need to.

“Yeah. I know. Can’t blame him. I fucked someone else too.” I answered.

Kakashi flinched, aborting whatever he was about to say.

He was quiet for a few moments.

I was about to turn my head and return to staring at my reflection in the memorial stone when he tried again.

“He sees both guys and girls.”

“I heard.” I couldn't help but frown, just a bit.

"Lots of them. Not just one other person. Not just once." He emphasized. 

"Mhm." 

“You like him though.”

“How old are you anyway? Should I even be talking to you about this kind of stuff?” I asked.

“I’m a shinobi.” He said, as though that answered anything.

“What? Fifteen, sixteen?” I guessed.

“.... fourteen.” He relented. “Almost fifteen.” He tacked on.

I did turn back this time. 

“Maybe ask me in a few years, kid.”

“You’re not even that much older.” He groused.

“I’m a legal adult by civilian standards. It’s different. I’m like, an actual adult. For real.” I explained, despite how childish it sounded.

We sat in silence for a while afterwards.

“You like him though.” He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t know fuck all about him. I just like the way he makes me feel, and he likes the way I make him feel.” I responded. "If he wants to fuck around with a bunch of other people, then that's his business." Venom leaked into my voice as I continued. "There's no expectations, it's not like we're anything more than strangers."

I left.

“I’m sorry.” I said.

“For what?” Kakashi asked.

“Your team is on here too.” Kakashi said.

“Yeah.” I responded.

“Why didn’t you join?” Kakashi asked.

I sighed. “Not you too.”

“I thought it was obvious.” He gestured to his anbu armor that he never seemed to take off since I had seen him wear it for the first time.

I snorted. “No, I mean Genma asked me the same thing.”

“M- Lord Hokage asked you to join.”

“So?” I asked.

“But you didn’t.”

“Yeah, he asked me, so I didn’t have to.”

“That’s not-”

“I know.” I interrupted.

Silence.

“What did you tell Shiranui?”

“I didn’t say anything. I fell asleep.”

“You didn’t have to join anbu.” I said. “You could have said no.”

“M- Lord Hokage asked me to.” Kakashi replied.

“It’s not in your best interest. You’re serving the village, yeah. Maybe that's a good enough reason for some. But I spent six years in that war, and I’m not going back.”

“The war’s over.” Kakashi said, confused.

“Does it feel like it’s over? Do you feel that way when on missions? Is your life any different than it was before you got your mask?”

He didn’t respond.

Even if he couldn’t answer the question because of anbu, he didn’t need to.

“I don’t... I can't...” I said. “I might get demoted for not taking any good missions. But I can still serve the village like this. D-ranks are important too.”

In spite of what I had said, I did end up taking a C-rank.

I hadn't seen Genma in a long time.

Hadn't seen Ebisu in more than passing, and even then he wouldn't look at me.

I had yet to find someone else that I could use.

And I was being limited by the mission desk.

They said I was doing too much.

Taking too many missions that could be done by genin.

I frowned.

But I knew it would be coming sooner or later.

So I took a C-rank.

Escort.

Helping a caravan make it from Konoha to some city on the southern peninsula.

I would be fine.

I could handle it.

“ **Hermit purple: preeminence”**

I cut into the bandits flesh quickly, chakra pouring down my blade into the small cuts I left as I passed by one after another.

I watched as spectral vines emerged from their wounds, coiling around limbs and feeding off their chakra.

Civilian bandits didn’t have much in their reserves, so it only took moments before they were passed out from chakra exhaustion.

I stared at their limp bodies.

My sword, still and poised just moments before, was now shaking in my hands.

What would I do now?

I couldn’t just leave them here.

They would just attack someone else eventually. Possibly someone without a shinobi escort.

I couldn’t very well take them along either. It would slow us down. Put everyone at risk. I couldn’t keep an eye on all of them and watch out for other would be attackers.

What if I ran into shinobi?

Then what?

I closed my eyes.

Inhaled deeply.

And when I exhaled, my hands were still.

I killed half of them.

Swift.

Deliberate.

Painless.

Right at the base of the neck.

Severing the brain stem.

I could hope this would stop those remaining.

That the fear of what I had done would ward them off from future efforts.

But…

Then there was the thought that it wouldn’t.

They could be worse.

More reckless.

More desperate.

I bit my lip.

Stared at the remaining bandits.

They weren’t shinobi.

They weren’t shinobi, I had just killed-

No.

Stop.

I swallowed.

My tongue felt thick in my mouth.

They were not shinobi.

They had not been forged as weapons.

Yet they had decided to become bandits, criminals.

They had to have killed people before.

They certainly had to be willing to.

They had weapons.

Had made threats.

If I hadn’t been here.

If they had stopped the caravan.

If the clients had decided not to hand over their valuables.

These men.

These men would have taken them.

Would have fought and killed for them.

When thinking like that.

It became easy.

I killed the rest.

I was ill at ease for the rest of the mission.

For the rest of the way home as well.

Even when at the mission desk delivering my report.

My voice was calm.

My demeanor professional.

I saw Namikaze as I was leaving.

He smiled at me.

Said he was glad I had put myself back in the field.

I told him I was just easing into things.

My hands were behind my back, clasped together.

I knew they would start shaking otherwise.

He asked me if I would perhaps consider taking more C-ranks in the future, perhaps even ones with a team.

I told him I had yet to make any concrete plans.

I had found someone.

He was tall, strong.

He smelled like smoke and ash.

I met him at a bar.

I had actually drank.

I had thought I wouldn’t.

But… 

Well… 

It wasn’t that many.

Three, maybe four?

It didn’t matter.

I was miserable.

That emptiness inside me felt like it would open up and swallow me whole.

So I was glad for the man I had stumbled into.

Glad he had caught me before I could fall and break.

His skin was several shades darker than the average konoha nin.

 _Sarutobi,_ my brain supplied.

I closed my eyes and leaned into him, let him guide me out to fresh air.

He was talking to me.

I didn’t listen.

Couldn’t.

Just shut my eyes tighter as the world spun.

I decided I didn’t like being drunk.

I apparently wasn’t going to be fun like Genma had been when I first met him.

Of course I wouldn’t be.

I wasn’t a fun person to start with.

I was only fun when I was sleeping with someone.

And even then it wasn’t me that was fun.

My body was fun.

I hadn’t gone home with the Sarutobi that night.

I woke up in my own home.

I didn’t really remember how I had gotten there.

My head felt like it had been split open.

The light of day burned my retinas. 

I had a vague memory of a dog faced spirit in my dreams.

I didn’t leave the house.

Just laid there in bed.

Curled into myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding some ages at the end of notes just so I can better keep track of things.  
> Kagame, Asuma, Genma: 18  
> Kakashi: 14


	7. Red light reduction

I decided to stay inside for a while.

Refused to leave my home for almost a week.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

_ I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to this. _

What did it even matter?

My logic had been sound.

I had made the right call.

But I had never killed a non shinobi before.

That’s what it boiled down to.

They had never stood a chance against me.

It was unfair.

But shinobi life was unfair.

Life in general was unfair.

Less than ideal.

So what was the problem?

It’s not like it would have been fair for the clients to try and defend themselves against bandits.

They were merchants.

I doubt any of them had ever used a weapon before.

_ The enemy will never play fair, so I can’t either. _

That’s it.

I know that.

_ Fighting is all about using whatever advantages you can get. _

I knew both of these rules.

Had learned them well.

I had learned them in beast country.

Had them reinforced in the academy.

Had them tested in the war.

I was pathetic.

I only left because I finally needed to eat.

It was a little after midnight, most people were in their homes at this hour, even shinobi.

With limited options, I went to the only place I knew for sure I would be able to find something. The only part of the village that would still be bustling with life this late.

The red light district.

I bought a chicken sandwich.

It tasted amazing.

Had I known food could taste this good I would have been eating more than the occasional ration bar.

I watched as shady men and women paraded drunk through the streets, whispering, giggling, flashing money.

The air reeked of booze, cigarettes, and opium. 

I was approached several times by men and women alike, mistaking me for one of the whores working the streets.

It was rude.

Sure my hair was messy and a little gross, and my eyes were rimmed red, and I didn’t have my headband on me, but my obi was tied in the back, not the front. And it was tied neatly at that, I might add!

I sighed, letting my shoulders droop as I stared at my sandwich.

It was only half finished, but I didn’t think I’d be able to stomach anymore.

Disappointing.

I could feel someone come up behind me as I lamented my sandwich’s fate.

“Touch me and die.” I said blandly. 

“Ugh, sorry, I just-” The man, whoever he was, smelled like smoke.

“I’m not a whore.” I cut in.

“No! I-I mean, I didn’t say you were.” 

I turned to stare at the man as he sputtered.

He was a shinobi, even if he didn’t have any of his gear or his headband.

His unrestrained chakra eagerly poking around my own, despite his clear nervousness.

He had tan skin, shaggy black hair, and some stubble that would maybe one day be called facial hair.

He must be a Sarutobi.

“I saw you heading out this way and-” He started.

“You saw me?” I arched a brow. “As in, you were following me.”

I took a step forward.

He stepped back, placing his hands up.

“No! I mean, yes, but-”

“What do you want?” I asked.

He returned his hands to his sides. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You didn’t look too good last time we met.”

“And I don’t look good now either, right?”

“Well…” He said sheepishly. “You said it…” 

_ Wait. _

My brain caught up to what he said.

“Last time we met?” I asked, interrupting him as he pulled out a cigarette. 

“At the bar.”

I watched him light it and inhale.

“So, what? You’ve just been hanging around, waiting to see me?”

“No, I-”

I shoved my half eaten sandwich into his chest and left.

“Hey, where are you going?” He called after me.

“I’m going home.” I answered.

He jogged up next to me.

“Let me walk you there.” 

I stopped and rounded on him.

“I’m a shinobi, I don’t need anyone to babysit me!” I scowled.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” He shot back, brow furrowing.

“Nothing is wrong with-” I had been shouting, I realized. I cut myself off and pursed my lips, turning back around and resuming my walk home. 

“Fine, do whatever you want.” I muttered.

His footsteps followed behind me.

Despite everything, his chakra was still carefully brushing against my own.

It was like a warm breeze during a summer night.

He had walked all the way to my door with me.

I stood there, hand on the doorknob, unmoving.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, his chakra receding for a moment, unsure for the first time in our encounter.

“I’m sorry.”

I was in his arms before I knew it, fighting back the tears that wanted to spill forth.

I screwed my eyes shut and trembled as his chakra closed in around me, seeping into my clothes, wrapping around me.

I didn’t sleep with him.

I was too busy falling apart.

Breaking.

Just as I had been worried about a week ago.

“Stay with me… please…” I pleaded.

He brought up a hand to the back of my head.

“Okay.” He whispered.

I don’t know if I slept that night.

It was hard to tell.

All I was really sure of was that I was curled up in Sarutobi’s lap, clinging desperately to him, my face buried in his tear stained shirt, and he was sprawled out on my couch, his chakra radiating heat.

I didn’t bother him about his chakra as he went to sleep. It could do what it wanted for all I cared. I laid there and felt it as it expanded and settled across the room.

There was so much of it.

It was nice.

I wondered if this was just how wind chakra behaved, if it simply hated being confined to their user’s tenketsu.

I didn’t mind as it mingled with my own.

I closed my eyes and listened to Sarutobi’s breathing as his chakra filled my tenketsu up and flowed through my pathways.

“I really am sorry.” I said as he began to stir.

“Mm. S’okay.” He muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

I shifted off of his lap and watched as he stretched out his arms, yawning loudly. 

His chakra slowly began to recede back to him.

“It’s not okay.” My brow furrowed. “But thank you.”

“Kakashi said you’d try to sleep with me, I didn’t think he meant like this though.”

“Well, when we were at the bar- wait? Kakashi?” I asked. “When did-”

“At the bar.” He answered. “He took you home after you passed out.”

_ The dog faced spirit! Duh. _

“Right. Ugh… so, what do I owe you?” I tried.

“Owe me?” He stared at me confused.

“Yeah, for the bar… I take it I didn’t end up paying?”

“You don’t owe me for that. It’s fine.”

“It’s not-”

“It’s fine.” He repeated stubbornly. 

I felt a frown forming on my face, but didn’t argue further.

“Thank you, Sarutobi-san.”

“Asuma.” He said.

“Kagame Ryo.”

He looked at me, worry in his eyes.

“What were you doing out there last night?”

I shrugged. “I wanted something to eat. To get out of the house. Something. I couldn’t think of anywhere else that would be open.”

“So you weren’t-”

“No!” I shouted, mortified. “I- tch. I might be, mm. I… know that… I’m not like, you know… I only sleep with shinobi, for starters, okay, so like, I wouldn’t just…” I waved my hands around, struggling to articulate.

“I wasn’t looking to get some.” I finally said.

He eventually left.

My home felt cold and empty without his presence.

“Thank you… Kakashi… I…” I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if there was anything I could say that would be enough.

We sat there.

Neither one of us said anything as we stared at the memorial stone.


	8. Find yourself a rhythm

I applied for rotation at the mission desk.

I didn’t have to wait long to hear back from them.

It was simple work.

Boring, but simple.

It was odd wearing my chunin vest.

I knew that I probably should though considering the position.

So I sucked it up and put it on over my yukata.

It looked weird.

I tried not to think about it.

I was given a list of missions with relevant information listed next to them and a box of scrolls that had the actual details in them.

Namikaze and a chunin I didn’t know sat at the same table as me.

I didn’t like it.

I knew Namikaze sometimes joined the missions desk, just as previous hokage had done, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

He was nice and smiley almost the whole time, taking on a more serious expression only a few times.

I found I liked him better when serious.

He seemed more real, genuine.

Almost as though I was seeing his real self.

I wondered if perhaps the smiling and niceness was to disarm others, or if he was less sinister than my mind was leading me to believe. Maybe he just wanted to be nice because the world wasn’t that way, because it was harsh and unforgiving.

But I suppose it didn’t matter.

He was hokage, and I wouldn’t ever really know him as a result.

I had stayed late with the chunin who had manned the desk with me.

Mizusawa I think it was.

I restrained myself as he showed me where the completed mission briefings from that day would be shelved until they could be reviewed tomorrow. 

He had been attractive, but this was a place of work.

Even if I was… a bit desperate, I couldn’t go around sabotaging myself just for dick. 

Besides, I didn’t know yet if Mizusawa would turn out to be an asshole or not as my interactions with him had been supervised by Namikaze until that point. So I didn’t know jack shit about what kind of person he was. For all I knew he could end up making my life hell here if I fucked up.

So I restrained myself and paid attention.

It was on my way home that I felt someone appear behind me.

I stopped in the middle of the street.

It was dead quiet.

There was a chill through the air.

Autumn was almost over. It would be winter soon enough.

I inhaled.

_Dried larkspur._

_Genma._

I didn’t turn around as I spoke.

“Did lord Hokage need something of me?” I asked.

He ignored my question, choosing instead to ask, “Are you okay?” 

“I-” 

_I’m fine._

That’s what I wanted to say.

But… 

I wasn’t a very good liar.

“I can hope to be.” I said instead. “I’m certainly trying.”

“Inu told me what happened.”

_Inu._

_Dog._

_Kakashi._

“Mm. Well, I don’t think he knows why I acted like that, but yeah. I guess it doesn’t paint me very favourably, does it?” 

“Did you know you’re in the bingo book?” He asked.

“A weird change in topic, but no. I had no idea.” I replied.

“They called you Kijin Kagame.”

I snorted, a smirk formed on my face as I finally turned around to look at him. “Really?”

He was in his anbu uniform, just as I had expected him to be.

“Reports from Iwa say that you were like a demon on the battlefield.” He began. 

My smirk was quickly replaced with a frown.

I didn’t like wherever this was going.

“Those reports all came after your team was… gone.” He finished.

“So?” I whispered.

“You came back to the village after that incident. Your psych eval says you were in shock afterwards.”

I hated not being able to see his face, his mask didn’t offer me anything I could use. Nothing to provide me with any idea of where things were going.

“You never got over it, did you.”

It felt like an accusation. I know, or at least hope, that he didn’t mean it like that, but… 

“Goodnight, Fugu-san.”

I didn’t wear my chunin vest afterwards.

I brought it with me.

I placed it over the back of my chair.

But I didn’t wear it.

I was glad that on most days Namikaze was too busy to attend to the mission desk.

As for Mizusawa, he was… tolerable.

He wasn’t friendly, but he wasn’t hostile or mean spirited either.

He was just focused on the job.

We had spoken of out of office matters once.

He said he couldn’t wait to get back to the field.

He was only here because they required him to take a break due to his injuries from his last mission and couldn’t deal with doing nothing all day.

I didn’t tell him anything about myself.

It was after Mizusawa’s last day that I was allowed to run the mission desk myself. There weren’t enough of us left on rotation to spare two of us covering the same shift.

I knew the procedure by this point, not that it was all that complicated, so I didn’t really care.

I had barely ever talked to Mizusawa anyway, so it wasn’t like I was here to socialize.

So of course with my luck it would be my first day alone that I would wish he or anyone else was here.

Asuma Sarutobi and Ebisu had come into the room with the report from their latest mission

Ebisu froze when he saw me, a panicked look crossed his face.

I sighed, resting my chin on my palm. “I’m at work you know, you don’t have to make that face. Even I have boundaries.”

Asuma elbowed Ebisu in the ribs and whistled. “Ebisu, you dog.”

Despite his sunglasses obscuring his eyes, I was sure he had sent Asuma a withering glare as he straightened his back.

“Right, well, to start with, our mission was a success, however it took longer to complete than projected.” Ebisu began.

“We ran into a bit of trouble.”

“ _You_ ran into trouble, I wanted to go around trouble.” Ebisu spat.

And that set the tone for the rest of their report.

Asuma for his part didn’t seem at all bothered by it, which only served to irritate Ebisu more as he seemed to feel that Asuma wasn’t taking their report seriously.

Either way it didn’t matter much to me.

Their written report would have to be submitted to Namikaze anyway considering the missing nin they had run into had complicated matters.

I interrupted when I saw Asuma raise a cigarette to his mouth.

“You can’t smoke here.”

“Ugh-”

“You can’t smoke here.” I repeated.

“Right, sorry.”

Ebisu placed his hands on his hips and was about to continue when I interrupted again.

“You can stop there.”

“But-”

“Lord Hokage will have to review your report anyway, and I’m sure he’ll ask you back to clarify the more… colorful parts. You can go. Just leave the written copy with Mitsuhara at reception.” I stated.

The rest of my day was much less eventful. 

Thank the gods.

Just assigning D-ranks to genin teams and helping them learn the finer points of delivering their reports.

It was easy.

Easy until my shift ended and I found Asuma waiting outside, smoke escaping his mouth.

He waved.

“Hey, took you long enough.”

I stared at the smattering of snow collecting in his hair as he took my vest from me.

I don’t know why I let him do it.

“You know you could stop that if you just put up your jacket’s hood, right?”

He put out his cigarette and shook his head, sending the snow flying.

“Better?” He grinned.

“I guess.” I shrugged, brushing past him.

He fell into step next to me. 

“I was thinking we could grab something to eat.”

“I don’t eat.” I half-lied.

“I’ve seen you eat.” He responded incredulously. 

“Or did you think you saw me eat.” I said playfully, bumping him with my shoulder.

“I watched you eat a sandwich.”

“Is that what you do in your spare time? Just go around watching people eat? That’s kind of a weird hobby you have there, Sarutobi-san.” 

“But you admit you ate it.” He chuckled.

“I ate half of it.” I admitted. “The rest I ended up throwing at you if you might recall.”

“You didn’t throw it, so much as you did shove it at me.”

I ended up so distracted that I didn’t even notice we weren’t heading to my house, not until we were already standing in front of a barbecue place.

“C’mon, you’ve barely even touched the food.”

“I told you I didn’t eat.” I said, though I took another slice of beef off the grill anyway.

“Food’s important.” He furrowed his brow.

“Yeah, but I don’t need much. My clan saw it as unnecessary. They saw fit to try and… remove such a weakness. Obviously such a thing isn’t possible, not fully anyway, but it would be more convenient if they didn’t have to worry about feeding our numbers out in the field.” I shrugged.

He stared at me, almost as if seeing me as a shinobi for the first time. I wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case. I couldn’t really claim to appear as much of one really.

“Yeah… I guess that would be more convenient.” He finally said.

“I didn’t think you had a clan.” 

We had finished dinner and were walking back to my apartment.

“I’m not from around here, not originally.”

“Really?”

I tugged on his chakra, pulling it around me to shield from the cold.

“I’m from out east, way out east. Even past water country.”

“That’s pretty far.”

“Mhm.”

We walked in silence from that point on.

The only sound was of our footsteps crunching in the snow and Asuma’s lighter as he lit another cigarette.

I stood there in front of my door.

Asuma leaned against the wall next to me, blowing rings of smoke.

He was there.

It would be easy.

I could probably convince him.

I was almost sure of it.

I turned to look at him and smiled.

“Thank you, Sarutobi-san.”

“You don’t have to be so formal Kagame. Just call me Asuma.”

I took back my chunin vest from him and opened the door.

“Goodnight… Asuma.”

I closed the door behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kagame, Genma: 18  
> Asuma: 19  
> Kakashi: 15


	9. Winter Summer

“Shouldn’t you be out enjoying the festival?” Kakashi asked.

We were at the memorial stone. I had spread out a blanket to sit on so I wouldn’t freeze my ass off in the snow.

“The rinne festival is for family and friends. I don’t exactly have an abundance of either.” I paused to drink from my thermos.

Kakashi glared at me.

“It’s just tea.” I assured him.

He held out his hand expectantly.

I groaned but gave it to him.

I turned away to let him drink with privacy.

I still didn’t get the whole mask thing.

“Anyway,” I continued. “It’s not like I can find someone to take home during it.”

Kakashi made a choking sound.

They added new people to rotation at the mission desk.

There would soon be an influx of new genin with spring just around the corner and Namikaze didn’t want us unprepared for when that happened.

So I was given the ‘honor’ of showing the newbies the ropes.

Suffice it to say, they weren’t all that interested.

I was probably the only one here who had actually liked the job.

Or signed up willingly for that matter.

Really there were only two reasons anyone ended up working in Hokage Tower. 

  1. They needed some experience dealing with civilian clients outside of missions before they could be transferred to diplo corp. 
  2. Or they were here because they were on mandatory medical leave, just as Mizusawa had been when I first joined.



But at least those trying to get a transfer actually paid attention to protocol. 

“I don’t care Saito. Any and all complications or deviations from mission parameters results in a necessary review by Lord Hokage. I know it might seem arbitrary when first hearing it, but it’s possible that it could be a sign of future trouble. He has access to information that we do not and as a result has a better understanding of fire country and its neighbors. If it’s a possible warning sign then he needs to be made aware of it.”

“I’ve told you before Takashi, reviewing the written report is something that cannot be glossed over, and yes, I do even mean for genin D-ranks. They need to learn how to write proper reports now so they don’t have to worry about it later.”

That one was especially true now that the war was over and more genin would end up being promoted rather than dying out in the field.

“Watanabe, you have to mark down every participating member of a team when assigning them a mission, not just squad leader. Otherwise the mission won’t be marked down in their files during yearly review and they may very well fall short as a result when being considered for promotion or transfer.”

Honestly it was starting to feel like more work than when I had to man the desk alone.

I couldn’t help but feel jealous of Mizusawa for having such an easy time with me. And also grateful that he wasn’t still here. No doubt he would have blown a gasket already. The man had hated having to repeat himself, ever.

Naturally I was more than happy to blow off some steam after the first week of dealing with my new subordinates.

I was in luck, it turned out.

Genma had stopped me on my way home.

There were no questions this time, no half accusations.

Just want.

Need.

“I saw you lean into Saito again today.” He whispered into my neck.

“Don’t remind me.” I groaned.

Genma chuckled as he ran a hand down my thigh.

“I thought it was so cute how riled up you got.” 

He was filling me slowly again.

It was always frustrating when he did that.

He would smile and tease as I whined and tried to pull him in deeper.

“That explains a few things.” I grumbled

“If you saw what I did you would understand.” He smirked.

“Please, just…”

He chuckled again. 

“My desperate little slut.” He murmured.

He picked up speed anyway.

“Just for you.” 

Despite it all, things were running smoothly by the time graduation came and the new genin were ready for missions.

And… I suppose I did enjoy the extra help by that point. Especially since reading the reports for D-ranks was boring and I could foist it off on my subordinates.

Eventually the workload lessened as spring came and went, and with it most of the mundane chores civilians needed done during the season. 

Genin moved on to training focused schedules.

And the shifts for the mission desk were restructured.

I ended up with much more free time after that.

I had been scheduled for far fewer hours than anyone else on rotation.

I wasn’t all that happy over the development.

Namikaze though had stopped by and congratulated me on my hard work, telling me I deserved it.

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be nice or not.

I thanked him anyway.

Things would be fine after all.

There were more people working than there had been when I started all those months ago and summer was statistically a low point for missions considering the chunin exams would be taking place, so there wouldn’t likely be much need for me.

I spent more time at the memorial stone.

I didn’t worry about booking the training grounds it was on.

Most people tended to avoid the place.

Kakashi wasn’t there however.

I hadn’t seen him since the rinne festival.

I frowned.

He still had my thermos.

The chunin exams were being held in Konoha.

There were a remarkable number of foreign shinobi roaming our streets.

I was…

On edge.

I sought out someone.

Anyone.

I found Asuma.

He looked me in the eyes, must have seen something he didn’t like in them.

He let me come home with him.

Or I guess it was more like he told me I was going home with him.

Either way I ended up agreeing.

Or I guess I agreed.

I didn’t say anything.

I didn’t say no.

I didn’t stop him from putting his arm around me.

I let him lead me off.

I was surprised when I didn’t try anything.

I knew him.

He was safe.

Handsome.

He had a dick.

I don’t know why I couldn’t bring myself to ask anything of him.

His home was nice.

It was outside the Sarutobi lands.

An apartment.

Bigger, nicer, more well furnished than my own.

The appliances looked newer.

He probably moved in here recently.

I felt better.

Maybe it was Asuma’s demeanor, maybe it was his chakra.

It didn’t matter.

He was warm.

I leaned into him.

“I’m sorry.” I said.

“It’s fine.” He replied easily.

He was reading a book.

I couldn’t bring myself to focus on it.

“I’m practically a stranger.” I eventually said.

“What are you talking about? We’re on a first name basis.” He said. “Besides, you’ve slept with people you knew less than me.”

I chuckled.

There was no heat or admonishment behind his words.

I tried to leave in the morning.

He told me I wasn’t going anywhere without breakfast.

He didn’t care if I didn’t eat much.

He just wanted me to have something.

“I hope you don’t mind that it’s just miso and rice. I’m not all that great of a cook.” He said.

It was nice.

I ate as much as I could.

He smiled.

It was warm.

I was warm.

I smiled back.

He walked me home.

I felt warm when I returned home.

I didn't leave.

Asuma said he would speak to Namikaze, tell him I would be taking some time off.

I didn't need to leave after all, and I knew that it wouldn't end well for me anyway.

It would increase my chances of seeing foreign shinobi.  And while I knew none of them would be from Iwa, I still didn't like the thought of it.

So I stayed home, only leaving when I absolutely felt I needed to.

Asuma had been right to make me eat when I had been with him.

I felt a little dumb that I hadn't realized until several days after.

I barked out a laugh at myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kagame, Asuma, Genma: 19  
> Kakashi: 15


	10. Kijin Kagame

The exams ended.

The foreign shinobi left.

I was relieved.

I returned to the missions desk.

A few of the chunin were already gone.

Moved onto diplo or put back on active duty.

Namikaze welcomed me back.

Told me that he hoped I enjoyed my vacation.

I half lied.

Told him it was relaxing, but I was happy to get back to business.

The shifts were longer again.

More frequent.

They kept me busy.

Kept my mind off things.

The others talked about the finals all week.

Every time there was a lull in work they would bring up one of the matches.

I listened.

Filed away the information for later.

I don’t know why.

It wouldn’t be useful.

I wasn't on active duty.

I had no plans to return to the field.

The information would be useless.

My brain argued otherwise.

Things became stable after that.

I was stable.

Or I felt close enough to it.

I saw Asuma a few times.

He would smile, strike up small talk.

Every once and awhile he would take me to eat.

I would say no at first.

But then we would end up going anyway.

I always would get so caught up in him and his chakra that I didn’t notice until we were already sitting down.

I had fun anyway.

Sometimes he would complain about his father.

I was careful when he did.

I wasn’t ignorant to the fact that he was speaking of Lord Third.

That being said, I didn’t interrupt. 

Asuma had been kind to me. I wouldn’t deny him this.

As for Genma, I saw him sparingly.

I had figured out from his comments on Saito months before that he wasn’t just anbu, he was a member of Namikaze’s honor guard.

So while I didn’t see him much, I was sure he saw plenty of me.

But whenever I did see him, it always ended up the same way.

I would open my legs for him.

He would be slow, methodical, teasing.

It was frustrating and wonderful at the same time.

I would feel good.

Filled.

He would call me his slut and I would love it.

I smiled, wanting more of him.

I would plead and beg and moan, and he would give it to me.

But I would never stay long after it was over.

I wanted to.

I wanted him to wrap me in his arms and tell me to stay.

He didn’t.

He didn’t and I couldn’t find the strength to ask him to.

I still didn’t see Kakashi.

I sat in front of the memorial stone.

Alone.

It wasn’t the same as it had been when I first started.

Somewhere along the way it became about Kakashi.

About seeing him and not being alone.

I barely even thought about my team when I was here anymore.

Or barely thought about not thinking about them.

Not about them, not about the war.

I came here hoping to see Kakashi.

Hoping to see he was still alive.

And maybe to get my thermos back.

I had to buy a new one.

I still kept going anyway.

Still hoped to see him.

Then came fall.

And Kyuubi.

It was powerful.

Beyond what I could have ever imagined.

It’s boiling hot chakra hung through the air.

Its screams shattered glass.

Its attacks leveled buildings.

And yet somehow… 

I was fine.

Countless others died but…

I was fine.

I lived.

I did my duty.

I helped those who survived evacuate.

Searched through rubble and found those who were not so fortunate.

I ignored the slick blood that coated my hands.

The smell of burning flesh.

My shrinking reserves.

I…

I was fine.

I was.

I…

I wasn’t…

I…

The war was over.

That’s what I told myself as the world started to blur.

This wasn’t the war.

There was screaming.

I was fine.

The Kyuubi was sealed.

Namikaze died in the process.

Lord Third took back the hat.

There were a lot of missing people.

Large numbers of bodies, just gone, never found.

Not even remnants.

Most of them children.

Some reported being even younger.

Then there were disappearances afterwards.

But there were shinobi among their numbers.

Genin, chunin, even jounin and anbu.

Something was wrong.

Orochimaru defected.

They found his lab.

They found bodies.

He was branded a missing nin.

There were few other details.

Unless you knew how to look.

I wish that I didn’t.

We were busy.

There were far more missions than what was normal.

The village needed them.

Things changed at the tower.

Written reports were now reviewed by the elder council.

Danzo Shimura was brought back on as the council’s third member.

I didn’t like him or the rest of the council.

They were demanding.

Haughty. 

Intrusive.

There were more shinobi who didn’t come back from missions.

Shinobi who had been forged in war.

Shinobi who didn’t allow themselves the luxury of mistakes.

Shinobi who had once taken solo missions and come back unscathed.

And now they were on easier missions, missions that should have been easy, especially with teammates to back them up.

Yet they didn’t come back.

Died.

Died to enemies that shouldn’t have been able to kill them so easily.

The Yamanaka began to institute proper psych evals.

They hadn’t realized until now that the village had failed to reintegrate it’s shinobi into society after the war.

They blamed it for the new pattern of deaths.

Said the added trauma of the Kyuubi attack and what was found in Orochimaru’s labs had been the cause of it.

Believed that those shinobi had lost faith in the village and could no longer bear to fight in its name. 

I wasn’t active duty though.

So I didn’t go.

It was the month of the rinne festival when I finally saw Genma.

I had begun to wonder if maybe he died with Namikaze.

I’m glad he didn’t.

It was dark out.

Late into the night.

I had been asleep, or at least in a half sleep state.

The kind where you’re dreaming, but at least kind of aware that you’re dreaming because you can feel your bed and sheets.

I woke up to a loud knocking on my door.

He was barely lit up by the dim street lights as he held onto the doorway, leaning forward.

I was surprised he even knew where I lived.

Then I remembered he had looked at my file.

He was dressed in his anbu gear, mask included.

He smelled like sweat, blood, and alcohol. 

A bad combination.

He was on me in a moment.

I staggered backward a few steps as I regained my balance.

His arms were draped around me.

He was heavy.

He choked out a sob.

He reeked even worse up close.

He slowly dragged me to the floor with him, refusing to let go as his legs became unable to support his own weight any longer.

Cold wind continued to blow into my home.

“I’m going to close the door.” I said evenly.

He loosened his grip, just barely.

I carefully rose out of his embrace.

He spoke as soon as I got past him to the doorway.

“Please… don’t go…” 

It was soft.

I barely even heard him over the wind.

“I won’t.” I answered, cutting off the biting cold.

I turned back to him and knelt down, careful to telegraph all of my movements as I reached out for him.

“Can I…”

He didn’t respond.

I began to undo the straps to his armor.

He didn’t move to stop me.

As soon as I got his chestplate off I noticed a dark stain around his abdomen.

I swallowed.

I reached under the hem of his shirt.

He grabbed my arm in an iron vise.

“Genma.”

His hand was shaking.

I stared at his mask, waiting.

He let go.

I lifted his shirt up to take a look.

He was wrapped in blood stained bandages.

“I’m not a medic nin.” I said.

“I’m fine.” He whispered.

I sighed.

“Please stay calm for me.” I asked.

I reached into one of his pouches slowly, taking out a kunai.

I could feel his eyes burning into me from behind his mask.

I began cutting into the black fabric.

He didn’t move.

I thanked him.

As soon as I was done with the shirt I moved onto the bandages.

I was soon met with another foul odor.

There was a nasty gash underneath.

It was oozing blood and pus.

Infection.

I furrowed my brow.

“Genma-”

“Please.” He interrupted.

“Genma-”

“I can’t-” He whimpered

“Genma-”

“No!” He shouted.

I looked at his mask, frowning.

“Fugu-” I tried.

“Don’t.” It was a warning.

I placed my hand against the wound.

He winced.

I pressed into it, pus gushing out.

Disgusting, warm, slimy.

His legs and arms twitched as he grunted.

He didn’t back down.

I sighed, easing up but not removing my hand.

I let out a stream of cool chakra.

“I’m no medic.” I whispered.

“You feel good.”

I felt heat rise to my ears.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“I won’t.” He answered.

“Gen-”

“Don’t… Please… Don’t…” 

He grabbed onto my wrist as soon as I pulled away.

I called up my yoki.

He yanked his hand back.

I let it wash over me.

I felt different.

Felt everything fade and sharpen.

I felt like I was burning.

I looked at the man before me.

He was tense.

He smelled like **fear**.

I let my yoki **burn** brighter, let it fill the air around me.

The sound of rushing **blood** in my ear was deafening.

My gaze returned to his exposed torso, to his **wound**.

He was **bleeding**.

I had cared about that.

**I don’t remember why.**

Why should I…

**Why should I care for a festering worm.**

If he wanted to die…

**If he wanted to die, then let him.**

**He had outlived his use.**

**I didn’t need him.**

**I could replace him anytime.**

**He was just another bag of flesh.**

**A warm body.**

**There were more than enough of them.**

**No one would miss him.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kagame, Genma: 19  
> Asuma: 20  
> Kakashi:16


	11. Genma and Kagame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a chapter from Genma's pov.

He moved strangely when I first met him. He was a shinobi, that much was clear, but the way he moved, there was a clear unease to him.

He was deliberate in every action, calculating as he observed me. He didn’t drink, unwilling to compromise his clarity.

Yet still, I continued to drink.

I just wanted to lose myself, to drown out the world and all my thoughts. Maybe that was the wrong decision, but it was mine to make.

He took advantage of the situation, just as anyone would expect from a shinobi. Advantages are everything after all.

I was dizzy, flushed, euphoric. The world around me blurred at the edges.

I was more than happy to take him home with me.

It was dumb.

He was an unfamiliar shinobi. One whose appearance was deceptively feminine, lean, nonthreatening. He wore a yukata, not something most would trust during a fight, but you could hide all sorts of dangers in it. He could have been an assassin. He could have killed me.

Then he sang and laughed right along with me as I stumbled home. He held my hand and smiled.

It was at that moment that I became convinced he was going to kill me. I thought him some master infiltrator, a regular would-be actor had he not been a shinobi.

I decided I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

I activated my home's sealing array, locking every exit the place had. I wasn’t going to risk letting him escape. The only way he’d get out is if I let him, or if he managed to break the seal. He would regret it if he did, it was set to explode if that ever happened.

I led him to my bed, undressed, pretended to be surprised that he was a guy.

Then he managed to surprise me for real. He had tugged on my chakra in the middle of sex, there was a desperateness to it. He immediately flinched, breaking the connection. He looked so vulnerable when I gazed into his eyes. He begged me to keep going, said he needed me. 

I understood. He wasn’t an assassin. He was broken, and looking for something to numb the pain. 

I gave him what he asked for.

I was surprised to see him in the morning. I had actually forgotten he was even there. I stared dumbly at him as I racked my throbbing head for answers.

He told me I was good. 

I berated myself for being such an idiot.

Despite that, I almost went back to sleep when he said he would show himself out.

Then I remembered the trap I set. I nearly had a heart attack as I scrambled out of bed.

That could have ended up a real mess.

Shortly after that encounter I was recruited into anbu. I was one of three who was lucky enough to be assigned to the new Hokage’s honor guard. The rest who had been part of our training program were broken up into teams for wetworks. 

I had been surprised when I met him again, the guy I had brought home with me. Kagame, my brain supplied.

It had just been random chance, bumping into him in the streets.

Somehow I ended up bringing him home with me again. Not that I was complaining. I was pretty sure I was the one to make the first move this time, but he had been good after all. More responsive than most of my partners. He made such cute faces and noises. It brought a smirk to my face just thinking about it.

I wanted him to do it all for me again.

He preened when I called him my slut, pulled me closer, told me he needed me.

I heard that a mystery girl was seen getting plowed by Ebisu in an alleyway.

I found it fucking hilarious that someone had actually managed to get the man to do something like that.

So I talked to him under the guise of former teammates having lunch together, catching up. I managed to weedle out the information I was looking for. 

When he told me not only that it was his idea to do it right then and there- instead of literally anywhere with a modicum more privacy- but that the mystery girl was Kagame, well, I was more than a little shocked.

I decided to take advantage of my new privileges in anbu. I found Kagame’s file and took in as much of it as I could, eager to find out just who he was. 

I hadn’t expected him to be the one people had called Kijin near the end of the war. The man who was said to be responsible for the slaughter of half the Iwa explosion corp and the one to kill the Tsuchikage’s first grandson.

The same Kijin rumored to have turned down a position in anbu after the war was over.

It was an interesting new facet to him, one that I couldn’t pass up the chance to investigate further.

Because I was curious and not one to be outdone by Ebisu of all people, I went out and found Kagame at one of the training grounds. I watched him for hours, he didn’t seem like anything all that impressive.

He was… flexible, sure, but didn’t seem to be more than mid chunin level at best.

Still… 

I couldn’t help my libido as he began his cool down stretches.

I fucked him outside in my anbu attire, just barely raising my mask to expose my mouth.

I tried to ask him about why he wasn’t doing anything. Why he was just lazing around the village doing D-ranks and booking training grounds. I wanted to know why he didn’t join anbu. 

I found myself frustrated when he didn't give an answer.

He didn’t seem at all like someone who could be in anbu, who could be called Kijin. He wasn’t strong enough, not fast enough, and from what I had seen, unwilling to even engage in the shinobi lifestyle.

But he was nice and tight, and cute when he pouted.

So I apologized and didn't say anything when he fell asleep naked in my arms.

I didn’t see him after that, not for a long time, not until he ended up taking a spot at the mission desk.

He seemed different. There was a look in his eyes, one that he only kept from covering when he was alone. 

I did some more digging, talked to the one person I knew that could be called his friend, ironically it was Friend Killer Kakashi. 

He told me of an incident at a bar, the same bar I met him for the first time. 

Kagame apparently didn’t take well to alcohol, not at all. But as for why he was even drinking in the first place… The cause for it was beyond either of us.

In the end it’s Lord Hokage who shines light on the situation for me.

I was a bit surprised.

I hadn’t even brought up any of it to him, it was a personal matter after all, not a sanctioned investigation. But I guess you can’t become Hokage without keeping a close eye on all those around you.

The events at the bar lined up perfectly with Kagame’s return from a C-rank. The first mission outside the village he had taken since the war.

Lord Hokage allowed me access to the mission report. Not just that, but reports on him from the war, including those mentioning him that had been lifted off Iwa couriers.

Kagame seemed far more complicated then, worse off than I had realized, broken in a way that rendered him ineffective.

He was not okay.

But at least he didn’t pretend to be when I confronted him.

“I can hope to be.” He said.

Despite that, I still ended up sleeping with him from time to time.

It wasn’t often.

He was broken, and I didn’t want to get too close.

I had managed to put the war behind me. I didn’t want to get caught up in someone who hadn’t. 

And I definitely didn’t want to give up the lifestyle I had gotten used to. I couldn’t imagine just settling for one person, not anytime soon anyway. Especially not someone who I would have to be so careful with.

Still…

He looked so cute when he was flustered.

The Kyuubi attacked.

Managed to break the seal keeping it in Lord Hokage’s wife.

I wasn’t there with him when everything happened.

I wasn’t even able to get close before he used the hiraishin to send the demon away from the village and seal it once more.

I was supposed to protect him, to keep him safe. But I couldn’t do anything. 

He was dead.

I got put into the regular anbu forces after that.

I can’t really blame anyone for the decision.

I had already failed to protect one Hokage, there was no reason to trust me with another.

I got placed on a team with new people whose real faces and names were unknown to me.

I didn’t get to learn any of them before getting sent on a mission.

I’m told it would be a long one, something to keep us out of the village for a while yet.

It was an assassination.

It would take us all the way to the deep recesses of wind country.

We were supposed to kill a missing nin with a kekkei genkai. 

A woman with the nickname Phantom Blade.

I found out why she had been given the name soon enough when our squad encountered her and she cut through Kame and Suzume without even scratching their armor.

I end up as the last man standing.

I put a senbon right between her eyes, driven all the way through her skull and out the other side, but not before she can cut into me.

The wound was deep, but it didn’t go all the way through, so I counted it as a win.

I sealed her body away in a black scroll and stitched myself back up as best as I could, sparing only a brief moment to immolate my team's bodies.

I dropped off Phantom Blade’s body with my report to anbu commander Tora.

I almost went to the hospital when I finished.

Almost.

But then I was out of anbu headquarters and I was shaking and the exhaustion and pain of everything that had happened in the last few months caught up to me all at once.

It felt like I'd been hit with a train.

I drank.

I drank like a fucking idiot instead of being a reasonable person and going to the hospital like I should have because I’m fucking stupid and I can’t control my feelings all of a sudden even though I had been through worse than this.

I drank.

But it didn’t make me feel good like it usually did, it didn’t make me feel warm inside, it didn’t make me giggly and fun.

Instead I felt worse.

Felt like I was being pulled into a downward spiral and I might just drown in it.

I’m shaking even worse and my heart is in my throat and my lungs can’t get enough air and the world is spinning.

And then I was at his door.

Standing there in the cold, drunk off my ass, trying my best not to fall over as the world keeps spinning and snow falls from the sky, collecting on my shoulders and head.

I felt like a fucking idiot.

I probably looked like one too.

I was sure I was swaying even though I was trying not to.

Maybe I didn’t look so fucking stupid, not with my anbu uniform still on.

Maybe to anyone else who might see me, I still looked creepy and unnerving just like everyone else did with these stupid fucking masks on.

I don’t know.

But…

I’m suddenly knocking on the door and then he’s there.

Kagame is there in front of me and he’s barely awake or dressed, but he’s there.

And then I’m on top of him and I’m still shaking and as soon as I try to open my mouth and say anything I start sobbing and I hate it and it sounds ugly and awful and-

I take a deep breath.

He’s talking to me. I don’t fully hear him. He seems like he’s miles away from me even though he’s right here and I’m trying but…

I feel almost panicked as soon as he’s out of my arms.

“Please… don’t go…” I manage to choke out.

He closes the door behind me and tells me that he won’t.

And I believe him. Believe him because I have to, because if I don’t then what is there, and I need something to believe right now.

Then he starts undressing me, taking off my armor and trying to lift up my shirt and I try to stop him but I can’t, not when he says my name with so much worry in his voice.

He knows that I’m injured somehow, knows even before he sees the wound, but then he does and he seems much more concerned and I try to tell him I’m fine.

I don’t need him to be worried about me. I just need him to be here with me.

I just…

He cuts off my shirt and tells me I need to go see a medic, but I don’t want a medic, I want him.

And he’s frustrated.

He’s frustrated with me and I can see it in his face and hear it in his voice. 

And then he calls me Fugu and I’m angry.

I’m angry and I bite out a warning to him even though I don’t want to, don’t want to fight him.

I just… I just want him.

And then he’s pressing into me and it fucking hurts like a mother.

Searing, white hot pain shooting through my abdomen and down into my legs and arms.

I try to keep from showing it, try not to give him any clue as to how much it hurts because I don’t want to go, I just want to stay here with him.

He feels bad immediately.

It’s obvious on his face.

He starts channeling chakra into my wound and it feels good, he feels good.

But he always does, so I’m not surprised.

His chakra is soft and cool, and it reminds me of when I was little and I got sunburned so my mother rubbed aloe into my skin to soothe it.

And I’m happy.

Happy that he’s here with me.

“I don’t want you to die.” He whispers.

I answer easily, telling him I won’t.

Because in that moment I’m sure of it.

I feel like nothing could kill me.

I grab his arm as soon as he tries to pull away.

It’s a mistake.

I jerked my hand back as I was met with a dense, boiling heat.

Something changed in him, it was like a switch was flipped. All of the softness and concern drained out of him, replaced by an almost bored expression. His shoulders relaxed, his brow unfurrowed. His eyes were half lidded as he stared at me, the iris shifting from silver to gold. 

He didn’t look like Kagame anymore.

He slowly rose up, towering over me, never losing that mask of indifference.

“ **You can either lay there and die, or we can go to the hospital. The choice is yours. But I will not sit here as you kill yourself.** ”

We leave his house.

He’s several steps ahead of me the whole time, still only clad in a tanktop and shorts.

But at least he’s wearing a shirt. 

My bare torso is on display for the world to see, not that there’s really anyone to see at this hour in the night.

He doesn’t bother looking back at any point to see if I’m still following.

I’m freezing.

I could combat it easily.

I could circulate my chakra to heat up my body, I could catch up to him and bury myself in that heat radiating off his body, sending up steam with every step he takes in the snow.

But I choose to stay freezing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kagame, Genma: 19  
> Asuma: 20  
> Kakashi:16


	12. Spun glass

I had managed to calm down, to get myself back under control.

I was myself.

Or at least I felt more like myself, and less like…

Well, I didn’t know how to describe who or what it was I felt like before, but it definitely wasn’t me.

I hoped it wasn’t me.

Genma was in the hospital.

He would be fine.

I was on my way back home.

I was freezing, my steps no longer melting the snow under me without my yoki burning through my veins.

I tried to use chakra circulation to at least somewhat regulate my temperature, but mine had always run a bit cold. Maybe it was a result of my yoki, my body naturally adapting to compensate for the burning aura that rested inside me.

It was an interesting thought. But ultimately moot. There would be no way to find out for sure. None of my so called siblings had ever had the chance to learn what chakra was, and as far as I was aware there was no one left who shared the same circumstances as me anyway.

My eyes widened in surprise when I saw what was waiting for me in front of my home. Or rather who.

“Kakashi.” He was leaning against the door, blocking my way in.

“I brought back your thermos.” He said in lieu of greeting, swinging said thermos back and forth idly by the blue loop of fabric attached at the neck.

“I got a new one.” I replied dully, staring at him.

He had grown rather tall since the last time I saw him. And yet despite that growth, or perhaps because of it, he seemed almost frail. 

“Are you just going to stand there and freeze?” His tone was different than it used to be, still bored, sure, but it seemed like a different kind of boredom, not that I could figure out what subtle emotion was playing underneath of it.

“Why are you here?” I didn’t mean it as a question, even though it came out as one.

Kakashi had an oddly casual, almost lazy aura about him. It didn’t quite match up to what I had remembered of him.

I felt on edge.

He didn’t say anything. Just held up my old thermos a little higher.

“So nothing to do with me blasting off killing intent in the middle of the night.” I scowled as the words passed my lips.

I didn’t really know what was going on with him, had no idea if the accusation I just lobbed at him had any merit or even if I believed it, but I knew that I didn’t like whatever the hell was happening.

He just looked at me, the same lazy, bored expression refusing to leave his eye.

It pissed me off.

He pushed off the door, and almost instantly, my irritation gave way to fear, ice cold, settling into my veins.

I recoiled, stepping back hurriedly. 

He stopped, still not casting off the lazy demeanor.

He began to slowly crouch down, his eye never breaking contact with mine, as he gently placed the thermos down in the snow. 

“You should go back inside. You’ll catch a cold.” He vanished as soon as the words left his mouth.

I was avoiding Genma. As best I could anyway. But there was only so much I could do to avoid someone in anbu. Stealth, tracking, ambush, it’s kind of their whole deal. So I wasn’t all that surprised when he stopped me on my way home from my shift not even a week later.

“Look, I’m-”

“It’s fine.” I cut him off.

“No, it’s not-” 

“Listen.” He scowled at me, but kept his mouth shut. “I reacted badly. I should have- I shouldn’t have done what I did. Well, except for taking you to the hospital because I definitely needed to do that, but- the point is, I could have gone about it better than I did.”

“Can I talk now?” He asked, exasperated. 

“Fine.” I sighed.

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position to begin with. Not when you’re-”

“When I’m what?” I glared at him.

“I don’t wanna-” 

“No. Do go on. Might as well since you already started.”  _ I won’t let you backpedal now. _

Genma sighed, straightening his shoulders before continuing. “You’re a noncombatant. You haven’t been in the field in awhile and I just showed up, drunk and bleeding. I shouldn’t have expected you to react well, that’s all.”

I stamped down the anger building within me, too aware of the curious eyes lingering on us.

“Alright. Fair enough.” 

It was no surprise that he thought that way, everyone in the village probably did. If you could stay in the field but chose not to, then it was because there was something wrong with you. And in this case he would be right. There was something wrong with me. I hadn’t been okay in… ever, if I was being honest with myself. I had admitted it to him myself after all, said that I could only hope to be okay, not that I was. And I had then proved it all with my actions.

But I was a shinobi regardless, and it stung some stupid prideful part of my fractured psyche to be thought of as someone delicate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kagame, Genma: 19  
> Asuma: 20  
> Kakashi:16


	13. Brittle bones of ice

“Are you going to the festival tomorrow?” Kakashi’s voice sounded from behind me. It was deeper than I remembered it. I must not have noticed last time we spoke. 

_Then again, with everything going on that night, I hadn’t exactly been in my right mind… or rather, my usual state of mind, considering I can’t claim to be in a “correct” mindset at any given moment._

“We already had this conversation last year.” I didn’t turn to face him as he moved to stand beside me. I was focusing too much on trying to appear unbothered, watching the memorial stone as I would normally. Acting as though whatever dynamic we’ve had for the last two years was still intact, unchanged. “Oh, and it’s rude to sneak up on people.”

“You knew I was here.” He said, snatching my thermos from my hand just as I was about to drink from it. I tried not to flinch.

“Why did you even bother giving it back if you were just gonna take it again?” I sighed, tilting my head down in mock depression, peering up at him from through my bangs.

“Why did you bother bringing this one with you if you bought a new one?” He asked, daintily lifting the blue strap dangling from it’s neck.

“The other one has a grey strap attached to it, this one has a blue one.” It really was just as simple as that.

“So I can have the other one?”

“No!” I scoffed.

“Maa, it’s not like you need both.” 

“Buy your own Hatake, you have a job, don’t you?”

“But you already bought a second one.” Despite his teasing he still placed the thermos down beside me, nestling it securely in the snow

“Because you stole the first one!” I snapped my head up, glaring as he continued to hide behind his irritating facade. 

He brushed off my outburst with a weak chuckle, scratching at the edge of his fabric mask.

My anger melted away as I was struck once again by how different he seemed to that boy I had met when I first started coming here. 

He must have noticed I was staring as his lone eye turned to meet my gaze. It looked so lifeless, devoid of warmth or emotion. More tired than I had seen him in awhile, if that was somehow possible. 

I felt cold just looking at him.

“You’re different.” The words slipped from me without thought.

Kakashi just cocked his head to the side, asking in a bored tone, “Am I?” Almost as though he hadn’t noticed. Or perhaps he meant that genuinely. 

I rose from my seated position, careful not to break eye contact with him as I hooked my fingers through the loop on my thermos.

I was unsure of myself in that moment.

Unsure of him.

Whatever instincts I had, shinobi or otherwise, were screaming at me, demanding I do something, anything.

I could only stand there, watching him.

The sound of my breathing and my pounding heart growing louder and louder as the world around me grew silent and still, blurring around the edges.

I couldn’t feel my arms or legs as a numbness set into them.

For a moment, I nearly believed I was floating as I stared into that black pupil, my own image reflected back at me.

Disheveled hair.

Pale skin.

Chapped lips.

Terrified. 

A beast in a corner.

Ready to burst free from its casing.

_I was as still as wind stolen into a cage._

_In a single instant, my limbs solidified into stone and evaporated, falling into the grey sky as sheets of ash as I was cast down into the earth._

I don’t know why I did it.

I don’t even remember the act itself.

There was just suddenly blood.

Stark crimson staining the snow covered ground.

Slick and warm against my skin, chasing away the numbness.

An outstretched hand.

Split open skin.

A broken shoulder strap.

“I…” 

I didn’t mean to. 

I scrubbed vigorously.

Skin peeling away as water stung burning hot.

Steam cloying with sweet metal.

Choking wracked sobs. 

Tainted pink pooling around my ankles.

I sat upon the shower floor for who knows how long.

The water cascading down having turned freezing cold.

A horrible cacophony of noise as the water rose driving me to finally turn it off and unclog the drain from countless knots of hair I had ripped out in my frustration.

As the last of the water swirled down into the abyss, I was left empty.

I was too exhausted to towel off or redress. I flicked off the lights and entered my room, collapsing into my soft inviting sheets, burying my face into my pillow. My skin prickled with discomfort as the cold winter air settled into my bones and made its home.

I groaned in displeasure at realizing I hadn’t turned on the heat when I had returned.

I didn’t get up to change it.

I actually brushed my hair when I woke up. I changed into what was my last clean outfit, a dark grey yukata and black pants that I never wore. It just made my face look even more washed out.

But I felt…

Not better. 

Just different.

And different was something.

And something was better than nothing.

So I guess it was better.

In its own way. 

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in and held it.

And exhaled.

“Everything is going to be fine.” I lied to myself.

I exited my home, hands clasped together around the grey loop of my thermos. I tried not to think about how I had instinctively chosen to hold it in the _snake_ hand sign, almost as though I was preparing for battle.

 **_If I channeled my chakra and continued into_ ** _conflict_ **_then I could catch him in hermit purple. It would be almost too easy to kill him then._ **

I stopped in my tracks, banishing the disturbing line of thought.

I had yet to make it to the training grounds near the outskirts of the village. I was still on the main road in fact. 

It was still early enough in the morning that the merchants were setting up their stalls for the festival. 

It wouldn’t be long before this whole place would be stuffed full of people laughing and eating and playing stupid games for prizes that no one _really_ wants but still appreciates anyway.

I carefully untangled my fingers, breaking my hand sign as I prepared to continue on my way, resolute in ignoring the emptiness clawing at my chest.

_I am a shinobi. I won’t be cowed by my own cowardice. A shinobi endures, a shinobi overcomes._

_I am a shinobi…_

_And I won’t stand in my own way._

By the time I had made it to training ground three my hands had curled up into fists so tightly that I was afraid I might cut into the skin with my nails, adding more red to the blood stained snow.

I took a deep breath and extended my chakra sense into the clearing I was about to enter.

I snapped my chakra back in surprise as I was hit with the smell of cigarette smoke and a subdued chakra signature I couldn’t quite place. 

It was like the most subtle of breezes in the dead of winter. The kind of breeze that cut through the skin like a knife but would have been almost unnoticeable if it were any other time of the year.

I felt something unknot inside my chest.

Fists unclenching.

Heart relaxing.

Lungs heaving a sigh of relief.

Whoever it was they weren’t Kakashi, and while the whole point of coming out here had been to see him I was rather glad not to.

I left the safety of tree trunks and overgrown bushes, feet crunching loudly against the newest layer of undisturbed snow, not caring enough to soften the almost deafening sound in the previously silent clearing.

An eyebrow raised unbidden when I took in the familiar form standing before the stone.

He turned to me and smiled, warm despite the snow and the clear difference in his chakra. Teeth clenching his cigarette too tightly, bending it out of shape.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can… come back.” I said.

Asuma shook his head and chuckled, soft flurries of snow falling loose from his hair. “It’s no trouble.”

I swallowed and nodded, turning to face the memorial stone. I watched my reflection as I bent down and planted my thermos in the snow.

I smiled at myself.

I looked… okay.

Part of that was probably just the stone’s blue-green tint hiding my pallor.

But… 

I didn’t see the terrified beast from yesterday.

And that was better, much better than what I had been hoping for.

I rose up, sparing a look to Asuma out of the corner of my eye.

It was weird seeing him so downtrodden. He had always seemed to be so… I didn’t know the word, but like, there was this quality about him that made me think he could just brush it off like water. Even when things were bad with lord third, Asuma was just “mad.” Though honestly I wouldn’t even call it genuinely mad, it was more like he was irritated. 

So… yeah.

“I’m… sorry again, for interrupting. I’m done now though, so, um, bye.”

Yet when I turned to leave…

He moved in step with me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and giving a wide smile with bared teeth and closed eyes.

“So,” I suppressed a shiver as his chilled chakra wrapped around me, sluggishly prodding my own. “What are you doing for the festival?” He asked.


	14. To make a wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asuma and Kagame go to the Sage's Shrine.

“If we go now we can make it to the shrine before it gets crowded.” Asuma’s voice was oddly quiet as he spoke, the kind of quiet I didn’t hear from him unless I was breaking down.

No actually, it didn’t have the same gentleness to it that I would associate to those times. This was something else, a different kind of quiet I hadn’t experienced with him before.

I nodded, leaning into Asuma’s hold as we walked through the street. He smelled kind of musty today. Like stale sweat. 

_Well, he has been out of the village a lot with those twelve ninja whatever guys. Maybe he just got back?_

My train of thought was quickly brought to an end by another shiver running through my body as Asuma’s chakra began to settle across my skin. I was hoping that I might be able to shield myself from it with basic body heat, but so far it wasn’t looking promising. Especially not with the added cold of winter and snow. I thought of repelling his chakra with a layer of my own, but I couldn’t predict the outcome that would lead to. The physical aspect sure, while my own chakra was far from warm it at least would be preferable to what was emanating from Asuma as of right now. What I couldn’t predict was the emotional reaction it would provoke. I hadn’t observed Asuma in this state, I didn’t know how he would react, if my simple desire for warmth might be seen as a rejection of him.

_If through action I may instead harm another…_

I banished the thought from my head.

I decided I would bear my own self for view.

“I’ve never… done the festival thing.” It felt different admitting that to Asuma than it had to Kakashi, more embarrassing somehow, though I wasn’t sure why. 

He gave a low hum of acknowledgement, and then, as if sensing my insecurity, “It’s not that big a deal.”

We lapsed back into silence at that, walking sedately through the streets as more people trickled into them. The villagers brought with them a lively mood, one that seemed to encircle us, though refused to penetrate the cold bubble of Asuma’s mood. 

I couldn’t help but to notice the wandering eyes of passersby lingering on us, drawn to his arm wrapped around me. More and more sets of eyes coming to look, some shameless, others believing themselves sly.

I was not a fool. 

I was more than aware of what shinobi thought of me, and how those who would whisper were unthinking in their words, careless when around civilians who would in turn create mountains from falsehoods. While I was not so arrogant to think myself well known, Asuma was lord Hokage’s son, people knew about him and anything would be used for idle chit chat. It would be inevitable that gossip of Asuma with another in a seemingly romantic embrace would reach the ears of those who did know of me. 

_And that would surely lead to my own misfortune._

I looked to Asuma through the corner of my eye. He seemed distant, farther away from me and the world around us than I had ever seen him, despite our physical proximity. I wondered in that moment if he was drawn into some introspection too deep to notice, or if he simply ignored the people as being son of the Hokage were enough to desensitize him to the attention.

He noticed me staring a moment later, cracking a frail smile, one that did nothing to warm his face.

**_Have I not done enough to harm those who would be called close to me?_ **

We settled into a small crowd ascending stairs, passing through red torii gates as paper talismans fluttered in the wind. As laughter and idle chatter filled the air I could feel the cold of Asuma’s chakra compress, as though fearful of those around us, unwilling to come into contact with them. 

I chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the sound of ringing bells growing closer as we continued our ascension. 

“Who is this shrine for anyway?” I asked, noting a few odd looks thrown my way. 

“The sage of six paths.” Asuma said it as though it were obvious. Though I suppose to anyone familiar with the holiday it probably would be.

“Can you explain it to me like I’m five?” A playful lilt colored my voice. 

“He’s the founder of Ninshu,” _okay, like I know what that is,_ _“_ the first person to ever use chakra.” He glanced at me worryingly. 

“I told you I didn’t do the festival thing.” I couldn’t suppress the smile blooming across my face, nor the breathless laugh. 

“Okay yeah, but… how do you not know who the sage is?” He asked incredulously. 

I lifted my hand, counting off the reasons on my fingers. “He doesn’t exist in Beast Country, we don’t have shinobi there, I’ve never heard of _Ninshu_ , I spent my entire life as a Konoha citizen either preparing for war or fighting in it.” I said easily.

My words hung in the air for the rest of our climb, earning me apprehensive stares from those around us. 

Asuma dropped his arm from my shoulder as we approached a small looking woman with inky black hair pulled back by a white ribbon. 

I took that moment free from Asuma’s embrace and attention to observe the others around us more closely. My eyes came to linger on a woman with her children, slipping folds of paper through the slats of a wooden well before closing their eyes and bringing their hands together in what looked to be prayer.

_But who would I pray to? A dead man I had never properly heard of? A half forgotten god from my early childhood in Beast Country?_

Asuma returned, handing me a slip of paper and pencil, his hand coming to rest at my back, guiding me over to the same wooden well I had just seen that family at. I watched as he began to scribble something on his paper, though I couldn’t see just what it was, when I was suddenly struck with a realization about the pencils we were given. They were short, red things, the kinds of pencils that just suddenly stopped at the end, no eraser to be had.

_Whatever I write, there will be no way to undo it._

I glanced back up to Asuma, sure that my worry was written plainly on my face. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You write down a wish.” He held the pencil between his teeth as he began to carefully fold his paper.

“A wish.” I looked back down at my own paper, mocking me with its blank state.

“ _You know…_ ” He paused to take the pencil out of his mouth, “something you want.”

“I know what a wish is…” I muttered. “But I wasn’t born to make wishes.”

“I don’t think anyone is?” He said slowly.

“If I were to fill my hands with water and wishes,” I began, “I can tell you which one would slip through my fingers more easily.”

Asuma furrowed his eyebrows. “Um…” 

I smiled at him, letting the tension in my shoulders bleed out as I handed my slip of paper to him. “It means… that wishes are fleeting. They aren’t something we can hold onto.”

“Thinking like that…” There was a clear sadness in his eyes as he spoke. “Doesn’t it hurt? Not being able to believe in anything?”

“I didn’t say I don’t believe in anything.” I scoffed, looking up at the grey sky looming over us. “It’s just easier to have faith in things we can actually touch.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t wish for anything.” He placed the paper back into my hands, clearly intent on not letting this go.

I closed my eyes and sighed. “Fine.”

A wish.

A simple wish.

Once that I ultimately knew wouldn’t be possible anyway.

_I wish…_

**Asuma pov**

His hands were cold. 

_The same kind of cold as-_

He withdrew his hands and set to writing on the paper, careful to keep me from seeing its contents. Kagame just gave me a smile, one with sharp eyes declaring that I wouldn’t be privy to his secret. Though I couldn’t say I was mad about it, I didn’t let him see mine either.

_Still though… I hope his wish, whatever it is, comes true._


End file.
